


Love Yourself

by imnotinclinedtomaturity



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Barista!Phil, Coffeeshop AU, Happy Ending, Language, M/M, Slow Burn, all smut is skippable and marked, eventual explicit sex, lots of bi pride, singer!dan, some bi/homophobia, very consensual d/s undertones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-28 03:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 266,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13895382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotinclinedtomaturity/pseuds/imnotinclinedtomaturity
Summary: A lot of things about Dan's life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he's got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He's currently lacking inspiration, he's rather lonely, and he's stuck in a rut.Dan's been going to the same coffee shop for years. It's quiet, it's quaint, it's near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that's he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista.





	1. 1 (2374 words)

**Author's Note:**

> i'm FINALLY getting around to writing and posting this fic, which i've had in my head for a full year. thank you to [auroraphilealis](http://www.auroraphilealis.tumblr.com) for helping me edit and inspiring me <3

“Triple espresso, one sugar. To go.”

“Sure that will be – oh. You’re Dan Howell.”

Dan’s head snapped up to meet the barista’s eyes. His unfamiliar,  _ gorgeous  _ eyes. “And you’re new.”

“Er, yeah. How’d you know that though?”

“I come here almost daily. I live nearby, plus it’s the only place slow enough that I rarely get recognized.”  _ Please don’t be a crazy fan. _

“Seems like the kind of thing my coworkers could have warned me about.”

Dan cocked an eyebrow. “Warned? That bad of a surprise, huh?”

The barista’s eyes grew wide. “No! No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean it would have been nice to have a heads up so I wasn’t so surprised. It’s not like I don’t like your music or anything – I actually really enjoyed the new single you released last week and–”

“Relax,” Dan’s eyes flickered down to the cute new worker’s name tag, “Phil, I’m just kidding.” 

“Oh. Good. Um…” Phil seemed to remember he was at work and had a job to do. “That will be three pound fifty.”

Dan dug his wallet out of his pocket and embarrassedly remembered he was wearing old joggers and a hoodie.  _ What a great outfit to meet a cute guy in. _

Dan shuffled down the counter, trailing Phil as he started making his coffee. The sudden appearance of a new (attractive) employee woke him up better than any triple espresso ever could.

“So, Phil, what brings you to this hole-in-the-wall coffee shop?”

Phil’s head shot up, as if he was surprised that Dan was continuing to talk with him. “Oh, you know, the usual. I just moved to London and needed a job to help pay the rent.”

“Welcome to London. Where did you move from?”

“Thanks! I just got here from Manchester last week.” Phil slid Dan’s coffee across the counter, a few drops splashing over the edge. However, instead of Dan grabbing his coffee and leaving, he leaned forward, rested his arms on the counter, and took a long sip of his coffee. He knew he should be going — he had a plenty long to do list today — but he couldn’t resist learning a bit more about Phil. 

_ It’s just because he’s new and I come here every day. It’d be weird not to chat. _

Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. All he knew about the girl who was normally working during the weekday mornings — Emma? Emily? — was that she was Irish, and that was based solely off her accent. The guy who worked on the weekends — Jake, maybe? — was incapable of putting his phone down for more than thirty seconds and smoked like a chimney.

But Phil’s new.  _ It’d be rude not to be friendly. _

“How are you liking London so far?”

“It seems like a cool city, from what I’ve seen of it. Between unpacking and working, I haven’t really had a lot of time to explore yet.”

“There’s definitely plenty to explore. What kind of stuff are you into?”

“Um, I’m a bit of a nerd, to be honest.”

Dan chuckled and wondered just how much ‘a bit’ was. If Phil was anything like him, ‘a bit’ was code for ‘completely and utterly’. “I feel you there. Have you been to the Sherlock museum?”

Phil’s eyes lit up. “No! I want to so badly though. I’ve heard it’s amazing.”

“It totally is. I swear I think I had to be dragged away the first time I went. They were literally closing when I finally left.”

Phil leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. “I’ll definitely have to check it out. My friend promised to go on the Doctor Who tour with me on my next day off, so it will have to be after that though.”

“I’ve been meaning to go on that! No one in my life likes it enough to go on a two and a half hour tour with me, though, and I hate doing stuff like that alone.”

Phil nodded along like he perfectly understood what Dan was complaining about. “I know what you mean, there were so many nerdy things I wanted to do when I was living in Manchester but none of my friends there were interested in going with me.”

“That sucks. It’s good that you’ve got someone here who’ll go with you.” Dan took a sip of his coffee, taking the opportunity to study Phil’s features a bit more closely over the brim of his cup. His eyes were a striking combination of blue, green, and yellow and his jet black hair was carefully arranged in a short, borderline-outdated, emo fringe that Dan would have done anything to replicate just last year. One the whole, Cute Coffee Boy looked much more put together than Dan did.  _ To be fair, he probably didn’t roll out of bed twenty minutes ago. _ “Okay, so, important question. Who’s your favorite Doctor?”

Phil looked contemplative for a moment. “Well, obviously David Tennant was great. He was both cute and played a great character. But I also kind of have a soft spot for Christopher Eccleston? He was the first person I ever saw playing the Doctor and who got me into the show, so he’ll always have a place in my heart.”

“I feel that way about David Tennant! I didn’t give in and start watching until he started — obviously I went back and caught up after watching like two episodes. Are you all caught up? I’ve been dying to talk about —” 

Dan was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

Both he and Phil glanced down at his phone, which laying face up on the counter. “Louise <3” was on the caller ID. Dan shot Phil an apologetic smile and held up a finger as he answered, trying to express his annoyance at being interrupted.

“Hi Lou.” 

“Daniel James Howell, I’ve been in your apartment for 20 minutes where are you?” Dan’s face fell in shame.

_ Oh shit. Louise. THAT’S what I was supposed to be doing. _

“Er, I’m downstairs. At the coffee shop.”

“Of course you are. Get your butt up here. And bring me a coffee since I had to wait on your bum.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be there in 10.” Dan turned to Phil. “Looks like I need a venti iced soy latte with two and a half pumps of vanilla, double whip cream, and cocoa powder on top.”

Phil raised his eyebrow. “Complicated drink.”

“Complicated drink, complicated girl. I’ll take a few shots of baileys in my coffee if you’ve got any back there. I have a feeling I’m about to get yelled at for being late.”

“Ha. Ha. So you’ve got to go meet your… girlfriend?”

Dan blushed. “NO! God no! I mean – that came out harsh. Louise and I would be a train wreck. She’s my best friend. And my manager.”

Dan averted his eyes, staring into his coffee rather than at Cute Coffee Boy. The silence that fell in the coffee shop while Phil made Louise’s drink felt awkward to Dan and he really,  _ really  _ hoped Phil didn’t feel it too. 

Unable to come up with anything to say, now that their conversation had been interrupted by Louise, Dan fiddled on his phone, liking a few tweets here and there. Both too soon and not soon enough, Phil passed him Louise’s and suddenly he had no legitimate reason for loitering. Phil handed him his receipt with a chipper “have a nice day!” and Dan awkwardly dropped his change in the tip char. 

Despite having his slowly cooling coffee and Louise’s slowly melting drink, Dan was tempted to stay, to keep talking to this interesting and adorable new barista, but he knew that he couldn’t. He knew Louise would be furious if he wasn’t back in his apartment in the next five minutes, and even more so, he knew talking to a cute boy wasn’t something he was allowed to do at this moment in time.

So rather than staying and talking and just  _ melting _ in the presence of this beautiful human, Dan grabbed Louise’s fancy ass drink and his own dark and bitter espresso and turned to leave. But before he could even turn around, the words just fell out of his mouth.

“I’ll see you again soon? Raincheck on that Doctor Who conversation?”

Phil smiled and raised one hand in a stilted wave of sorts. “I’ll be here!”

Dan couldn’t tell if Phil’s response was  _ customer service  _ friendly, or  _ trying to keep my fanboy in check  _ friendly, or  _ I actually want to see you again _ friendly.

Unfortunately, it seemed, Dan cared.

Dan trudged back into his lobby, nodding hello at the doorman, Mark. Trying not to dump out his drinks, he stuck his key into the elevator and pressed 7, nearly spilling his drinks anyway when the elevator started opening.

When the elevator doors opened to his apartment, Dan was immediately bombarded by Louise, who was apparently waiting in the entryway.

“Dan! I know I told you we were meeting to go over some of this publicity stuff today, where did you go?”

In response, Dan shoved her too sweet coffee into her hands, kicked his worn converse off, and walked passed her into the living room. 

Louise followed him into the room, sitting in the armchair across from him. “You’re being weird, what happened?”

Dan sighed, figuring there was no use keeping anything from Louise.

“Well, you know Beans and Grind?” 

Louise held up her cup, which clearly had the coffee shop’s name stamped on it. “No, no dear, never heard of it.”

“Shut up, Lou.” He took a sip of his drink, slightly stalling in hopes that Louise would bring up whatever business matters she wanted to cover.

She didn't. She patiently drank her coffee and stared at Dan over the brim of her cup, waiting for him to continue. 

“Ugh, fine Louise. There’s this new barista.”

To her credit, Louise was first and foremost always an amazing friend; she never told Dan off too severely for being reckless or stupid or making poor decisions. So rather than pointing out the millions of reasons why this discussion could lead somewhere bad, she leaned in conspiratorially.

“Tell me everything. Girl? Boy? Non-binary? I want all of the details.”

“His names Phil.” Dan paused, waiting for Louise to say something. What, he wasn’t sure, but he was positive she’d have something to say on the matter. When twenty seconds went by and Louise was still silently staring at him, waiting for more, Dan finally continued. 

“He’s new, he just moved to London, he was surprisingly not fan-like once he got passed the initial ‘there’s a famous singer in my coffee shop’, and is apparently a massive nerd. I didn’t get the chance to learn  _ too _ much else about him though, because  _ somebody _ called demanding my presence.”

“Well, if I’d known you were making the acquaintance of a cute, new boy, maybe I wouldn’t have.”

“It was just friendly, Louise.” But even as the words came out of his mouth, Dan knew he didn’t believe them.

_ Fuck. _

 

Morning coffee and gossip with Louise eventually turned into productive work time with Louise, which after a few hours turned into wine and more gossip with Louise. It was nearing 9 o’clock when the elevator let out a loud ding, indicating that someone had entered the apartment. Given Dan’s allowed visitors list, it could really only be one person.

High heels  _ click clacked _ on the hardwood floor but the footsteps passed the lounge and continued further down the hallway.

“Really, Dan, this is still happening?” Dan threw a slightly startled, slightly admonishing look in Louise’s direction.

A shrill voice called loudly from the kitchen. “Ugh, Danny! I had such a bad day at work and  _ of course _ you didn’t come take me out for lunch like I texted you to. Did you have your phone on, like, do not disturb or something?”

Rather than responding to the accusation, Dan turned and whispered to Louise. “Quiet or she’ll hear. Be nice, I really don’t want to fight tonight.”

The voice from the kitchen continued whining. “The girl at work was being, like, so annoying. She doesn’t understand that it’s, like,  _ literally  _ her job to do my errands and stuff. I mean, like—”

Louise continued talking, slightly drowning out the high-pitched complaining from the other room. “Right, unlike every single other night you’ve seen each other this month.”

“— and, like, the woman doing my nails didn’t even believe that I knew you. As if she hadn’t seen us together in the media or anything. I actually had to, like, show her my lockscreen to make her believe. When she finally got the  _ fucking picture _ , she was much nicer and gave me a free—”

Dan and Louise had both mostly tuned out the diatribe against the woman from work, the manicurist, and whoever else was being complained about.

“ _ Louise _ .” Dan sent her a pleading look, silently begging her to  _ be nice, don’t provoke her, don’t lecture me.  _

“Fine, I’ll be polite. That still doesn’t mean I approve of you continuing this...whatever  _ this _ is.” Louise loosely gestured to the hallway toward the voice in the other room, which was still rambling at an ear-splitting pitch.

Somewhat resigned, Dan shrugged his shoulders. “Good enough.”

Just as the words left Dan’s mouth, the visitor waltzed into the living room, preceded only slightly by the tell-tale  _ click clack  _ of stilettos. She was wearing a tight red dress with a plunging neckline and her nails were painted to match perfectly. Her hair was styled in big, loose curls that Dan was sure probably took some hair stylist ages to achieve — and probably left a hefty charge on his account, too. The woman was sipping a bottle of Perrier she’d already taken from Dan’s fridge, leaving a thick stain of dark red lipstick around the mouth of the bottle. A bit belatedly, Dan jumped off the couch and crossed the room to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek and wrap his arm loosely around her waist.

“Hi, Isabella, I didn’t realize we had plans tonight.”


	2. 2 (3508 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a massive thanks to [snowbunnylester](http://www.snowbunnylester.tumblr.com) for all the wonderful feedback and support, and also for telling me when something only makes sense to me ;)

_ “Hi, Isabella, I didn’t realize we had plans tonight.” _

Isabella pulled her cheek back from the kiss and stepped ever so slightly away from Dan, without actually disentangling from him. “Seriously, Dan? It’s Saturday night. I mentioned last week that that new, high-end French restaurant was opening tonight and I wanted to go.”

_ I don’t even  _ **_like_ ** _ French food that much.  _ “If it’s opening night, I doubt we’ll be able to get in.”

Isabella walked over to the large mirror on Dan’s wall, leaving his arm to fall awkwardly back to his side without anything to hold it up. Through her reflection in the mirror, Dan could see her puckering her lips and reapplying her slightly faded lipstick.

“Don’t be silly, Danny. I made us a reservation like forever ago. The woman was very accommodating when I told her who would be attending. She bumped some loser couple because they were already filled up. All she asked was that we post a pic on Insta while we are there, which like, duh, we would anyway.”

Dan smiled apologetically at Louise; apparently their evening plans of more wine while making fun of trashy tv were ruined. “What time is this reservation at, Izzy?” 

After smacking her lips a few times in the mirror, Isabella turned back to face him. “It’s in forty-five minutes. The restaurant is only a few blocks away so the Uber shouldn’t take us very long.”

“If it’s only a few blocks away, why aren’t we walking?”

With an exasperated sigh, Isabella pointed to her jet-black strappy heels with bright red bottoms that perfectly matched the red of her dress. “ _ Darling _ , I’m wearing my brand new Louboutins, you can’t be serious.”

Dan looked at the shoes blankly, honestly not sure what a Louboutin was. 

“ _ Boys _ ,” Isabella said with an eyeroll. “These shoes were almost a thousand pounds. I’m not wearing them outside for longer than necessary.”

_ Jesus on a fucking tricycle, those better not have gone on my account, too.  _

Isabella didn’t wait for him to respond. “We need to leave in half an hour, go get dressed. Wear that red shirt I got you, it’ll match my dress. And, jesus, do something about your hair. It’s a mess.”

Dan ran a self-conscious hand through his hair. To be fair, he hadn’t brushed it all day and he was still in the joggers he’d pulled on before he ran to the coffee shop this morning. 

“I’ll be heading home, then,” Louise chimed in. 

Dan startled, he’d half forgotten that Louise was still here. 

“Walk me out, Dan?” Louise asked. 

Dan rushed forward to grab Louise’s empty wine glass and set it on the bar cart. “Yeah, of course.”

Grabbing her oversized work bag off the floor, Louise led him out of the room. As soon as they were out of earshot of the lounge, she turned and whispered to him, clearly annoyed. 

“Are you actually going to go to that restaurant right now?”

Dan shrugged his shoulders. “I guess. You know I’ll look like a complete twat if I blow it off since they apparently made  _ special accommodations _ for us.”

“You don’t even like French food. You always whine that the portions are too small and the food is overpriced.” Louise sounded well annoyed.

Without responding, Dan pressed the button to call the elevator for Louise. There was nothing worth saying. “Have fun eating tonight,  _ Danny _ . I look forward to seeing that picture on Instagram.” 

Before getting on the elevator, Louise leaned forward and gave him a small kiss on the cheek.  _ She can’t be too mad, then.  _

The  _ ding _ of the elevator doors closing shook Dan out of his spiral of thoughts. Reluctantly, he turned around and headed towards his bedroom. As he passed the lounge, he stuck his head around the corner.

“How fancy is this place? Do I need a suit jacket?”

The look on Isabella’s face was incredulous. “ _ Babe. _ ” Her voice was sickeningly sweet. “I told you before, it’s suit and tie. I set out the jacket and pants I want you to wear — those nice fitted ones that make your ass look great. Wear those with that red shirt and  _ please _ pick out a normal tie. I don’t care what designer made it, if it has a pattern,  _ don’t wear it. _ ”

Hanging on the back of Dan’s bedroom door was his plainest black suit (which, ironically, was also one of his most expensive). Dan quickly pulled on the suit (with the obnoxiously bright red shirt) and ran a bit of product through his hair to tame his wild curls into something more presentable. In less than twenty minutes, Dan was calling an Uber ( _ Select, of course, because the other ones are just ‘so rubbish’ _ ) and trailing out the door behind Isabella. 

— 

Dinner was more pleasant than Dan anticipated. Within minutes of arriving at the restaurant, Isabella’s mood changed from demanding to saccharine. For a posh French restaurant, the portions were surprisingly not tiny and not  _ too _ terribly overpriced. For once, Isabella didn’t insist on the most expensive wine on the menu, and she actually picked a red wine, which she knew Dan preferred, even though she liked sweet white wine best. 

The staff was hospitable — borderline sycophantic, really — but neither of them could say anything negative about the service. Their waiter took a lovely picture of them entwined in their intimate booth, Isabella’s arm wrapped conspicuously around Dan’s waist. The warm, soft lighting didn’t need a filter to make the atmosphere look romantic, and their cheeks had a hint of red flush to them from the wine. The photo got more likes than normal — they always did when he posted about his personal domestic life. 

When their wine and food were finished, the waiter brought out a second, complimentary bottle of wine (a more expensive one, too, if Dan remembered the label correctly) and two crème brûlées  _ “on the house” _ . Surprisingly, Isabella didn’t make any comments about the calorie content of her food and ate every bite of her dessert. When the waiter brought their check to the table, she thanked him for his wonderful service, her voice as sweet as honey. Dan paid the bill and Isabella poked him in the side, reminding him to tip their server well. He didn’t need the reminder, but he was always pleased when Isabella wanted to do something nice for other people. 

In the Uber, Isabella coquettishly redirected the driver to her apartment, promising she’d  _ show Dan her appreciation _ for dinner. 

That night, Isabella was unusually selfless. Her usually grating voice turned dulcet as she whispered sweet things in Dan’s ear, and her hands were softer, more loving than normal. Satiated, Dan laid sprawled across Isabella’s bed and watched her apply her night creams and pull on her silken nightgown through half-lidded eyes. 

“Come back to bed, Izzy.”

Isabella sat the tube she was holding down in exchange for a small round pot. “I’ll be there in a minute, babe, I’m almost done.”

“I swear you’ve got more lotions than my mum.” 

Their eyes met through the mirror. “ _ Mhmm _ . You say that like you don’t have four face lotions of your own, Daniel Howell.”

Dan raised up onto his elbows so he could retaliate better. “Shush. You know I bought one of those because it smelled amazing and one because I was too awkward to leave Lush without buying anything.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Deep down, you know you love this stuff as much as I do.”

“Shut up,” Dan grumbled, but didn’t deny it. “Come back here, I’m lonely.”

With a final  _ thunk _ of the cabinet doors, Isabella turned around and meandered back over to the bed. Dan started to move from his horizontal position across the bed to make room for her, but Isabella splayed her perfectly manicured hands seductively across his chest to hold him in place. The tips of her fingers ran down his chest, slowly and lightly, stopping at the top of his pants. Teasingly, her fingers slipped just under the hem and rubbed at his hip.

“Hey, handsome.” Her voice was still the subdued, gentle tone she’d spoken in since they arrived back at her flat. “You should really wear these black Calvin Kleins more often, they’re sexy on you.”

Dan grabbed her by the wrists, pulling her on top of him. Like everything she did, Isabella’s landing on his chest was graceful. Her feet kicked up behind her, leisurely swaying in the air. For a second, Dan was distracted by the movement of Isabella’s legs and the softness of her silky nightgown against his bare skin. She was a warm weight on his chest, a physical reminder that he wasn’t  _ actually _ alone. He’d always been one to seek love and reassurance through human contact and Isabella was one of the most affectionate people he knew; it was one his favorite things about her. Sure, she had her moments where she was standoffish and rejected his touches, but more often than not, she’d lean into them. Unlike many of the people he’d dated in the past, Isabella loved to reach out and touch him, hold him, caress him in public. Granted — not everyone he’d dated  _ could  _ do that, but still. The affection was nice. Familiar. Comforting.

Isabella’s lips trailed down his neck, and he resisted the urge to recoil. As nice as the physical affection always was, he had to stop himself from flinching away every time she got too close to his neck. It always felt too intimate, too  _ wrong _ for the moment. When her hand dipped back into his pants, he gently pushed her back.

“As beautiful as you are, Iz, I don’t have a third round in me. You’ve tired me out.”

Isabella giggled, her laughter sounding like tinkling bells. “If you say so, old man.” She rolled off him effortlessly, moving to lean up against the headboard. “Come up here and cuddle me then at least.”

Dan didn’t hesitate to follow her up the bed and pull her into his arms.

* * *

Phil buried his head further into his pillow, trying to block out the loud ringing of his phone alarm. He still wasn’t quite used to the early six o’clock wake up on days he had the opening shift at the coffee shop. Every time his alarm went off that early, he questioned his decision to work as a barista. He didn’t technically need the job — at least not for the money, which is what he told anyone who asked. What he really needed was human interaction and some structure to his days (a more pathetic reason to give people). Working from home meant he could accidentally go days without leaving his home, which also meant days without interacting with another human being since he didn’t have a flatmate.

Today was his first Monday morning shift — which he had been warned were more chaotic and busy than most other days. To help deal with the increased traffic, Emmalee was working with Phil in the morning. They’d worked one shift together last week, and she seemed nice from what he could tell. He hoped that working with another person would help the time pass a little faster. Phil just wanted to be able to make some new friends while working at the coffee shop, regardless of whether they were coworkers or customers. He had a few good friends from uni that had moved to London as well, but they all had established routines already. Having a few of his own friends would help Phil feel more at home, more connected. 

When the snooze alarm went off for the third time, Phil finally rolled out of bed. A quick look at the clock told him that he only had ten minutes to get ready if he didn’t want to be late. Without any consideration, Phil pulled on the closest skinny jeans (black) and button up he could find (dark blue with white birds). He sloppily brushed his hair down back from a quiff into his fringe. As he ran out the door, he glanced in the hallway mirror.  _ Good enough. _

Emmalee was already at the coffee shop when he arrived. She’d only gotten as far as turning the lights and the machines on though, so Phil set about pulling the chairs down from the tables after he clocked in. 

Emmalee gave him a quick once over. “Someone looks tired this morning. Crazy night last night?” 

Phil flushed red. “Um, no.” He made his way back to the register. “I just kind of fell down a tumblr rabbithole, honestly.”

Emmalee nodded understandingly. “Been there, done that. Have some coffee, it might perk you up a bit.”

Taking her advice, Phil made himself a caramel macchiato while she unlocked the door and flipped over the  _ open _ sign. If anyone asked, he was making sugary coffee to practice using the espresso machine more, not because he was a sucker for sweet drinks. 

As the day progressed, Phil realized he’d been right — working with Emmalee did pass the time faster. The first three hours of their shift flew by. The morning rush had come and gone, leaving them time to chat and get to know each other before the lunch rush started. It turned out, Emmalee was a first year film student. During the lull, Phil spent almost an hour excitedly talking about camera angles and famous directors with her. Their conversation was occasionally interrupted by a customer popping in for a coffee, but picked back up naturally once they were alone again. When a large family walked in, Emmalee challenged Phil to a quick game of  _ rock paper scissors _ to determine who had to deal with them. Just as the large family left, another customer came in behind them.

When he saw who walked through the door, Phil didn’t even give Emmalee a chance to play  _ rock paper scissors  _ for dealing with this customer. Instead, Phil held his ground at the cash register, waiting for him to approach the counter.

This time, Phil was more prepared to deal with Dan when he showed up at Beans and Grind — well, at least  _ slightly _ more prepared anyway. Last time Dan had come in, he was disheveled and looked half asleep. His hair had been a mess of untamed curls, and his joggers and hoodie had been crumpled, almost as if he’d slept in them. This time, though, Dan’s hair was more carefully styled into his signature curly mop, and his all black ensemble looked like something that could be featured in a fashion catalogue.  _ Equally cute both ways, really.  _

Dan smiled at him as he came closer; it was a wider, toothier smile than Phil was used to seeing in the media and, almost impossibly, it was more attractive. Quickly, Phil worked to school his reaction into something normal, something friendly. He knew how awkward dealing with really passionate fans could be and how disappointing it was to no longer feel comfortable at a favorite place. He was determined not to drive Dan away from the coffee shop.

“Hey, Phil.” Dan leaned his hip against the counter and ruffled his hand through his hair. “How’s it going?”

“Good. The morning rush has finally slowed down.” Phil tapped his employee id into the cash register. “What can I get you?”

“Triple espresso, one sugar. In a to-go cup, please.”

_ The same, then _ . “Okay! Anything for your friend today?”

Dan glanced at the time on his phone. “Um, yeah actually. I should probably bring Isabella something to make up for being late. Um…” Dan trailed off and stared at the menu, looking lost. “I don’t know, what’s the sweetest thing you have that has no sugar and minimal calories?”

Phil bit his lip to keep from laughing, but a small giggle escaped nonetheless. “I could do a latte with nonfat milk and sugar-free syrup? That might be as good as it gets if she doesn’t want plain black coffee.”

The corners of Dan’s mouth quirked up into a small smile. “I’d rather not have the coffee dumped on me, thanks though. I’ll stick with the nonfat, sugar-free latte shit.”

_ Who is this person and why do they sound so awful _ . “Yikes, no, don’t want that. That’ll be six-fifty then.” Phil ran Dan’s card and spun the ipad around so he could sign while he moved down the bar to the dreaded espresso machine. Truth be told, he still wasn’t quite sure that he’d properly mastered all of the buttons, but no one had complained yet so at least there was that. 

Phil reached up to grab a fresh bag of beans and was startled to see that, rather than going all the way down to the pick up counter, Dan had stopped at the same spot along the bar as him. He was leaning forward, resting his arms on the bar. His long arms reached so far across the counter that Phil moved the milk carton a few inches to the left.  _ Just in case _ .

“So, Phil, did you get the chance to go on that Doctor Who tour yet?” If Phil was surprised to find Dan so close to him, he was  _ shocked _ that Dan remembered that detail from their last conversation.

Phil fumbled with the lever on the machine and tried not to appear too flustered (even though he was). “Nope, I’m going tomorrow actually. It’ll be my first day off since I started here.”

“I’m so jealous. I’m spending almost all of tomorrow at the BBC discussing doing something like the Live Lounge.”

“I don’t know, that sounds so much cooler than my plans for tomorrow.”

Dan shrugged noncommittally. “We’ll see, I guess. You’ll have to tell me about the tour next time I see you. Take lots of pictures.”

Phil set Dan’s drinks on the counter. “I’m sure I will, it’s probably going to be the only thing I talk about for the next week. You’ve been warned.”

“I don’t blame you. My followers would probably be collectively miffed about all the tweeting I’d do about it.” Dan took a long sip of his coffee.

“I’m sure at least a few of your seven million followers watch Doctor Who and would be interested.” 

Dan quirked his eyebrow. “Someone is either a scary good guesser, or has looked at my twitter recently.” His words could have come across harsh, if it weren’t for the teasing facial expression and tone. 

_ Dang it! _

“Um, I guess I might follow you on twitter?” Phil’s response came out like a question, not an answer.

The smirk on Dan’s face grew. “So, I am going to have to sort through all of the  _ Phils _ that follow me, or are you going to play nice and give me your handle?”

Phil could feel the color draining from his face. Currently, Dan was here, part of this small bubble of a world. Phil wasn’t sure he was ready for Dan to break into his normal world.

“I’m sure you’ll get it eventually, but didn’t you say you were running late to something?”

The question seemed to shoot Dan into motion and he jolted up straight. “Shit, fuck, Isabella, thank you Phil.” He picked up both coffees and practically ran backwards toward the door. “Sorry, I feel like I’m making a poor impression. I promise I’m not always late for something.” 

Phil chuckled and waved goodbye to Dan. “Of course, I’m sure you’re not. Have a good day!”

As the door banged shut behind Dan, Phil’s coworker threw her rag into the laundry bin behind the counter. Emmalee gave Phil a calculating look through her thick, ginger fringe. “That was weird.”

Phil glanced around the coffee shop, trying to figure out what she was talking about. “What was weird?”

“Dan. He’s never that chatty.” 

Phil thought back to the last time Dan had come in for coffee, when he’d loitered for almost a quarter of an hour after Phil served him his drink.

“Really?”

“Um, yeah. These days, he doesn’t even tell me his order anymore most days. He just drops his card on the counter and mutters ‘the usual’ unless he’s getting something for someone else on the rare occasion. He always tips well, though, so I guess there’s that.”

Phil glanced down at the ipad screen, which was still showing the receipt from Dan’s transaction. Sure enough, he’d rounded the bill up to ten pounds —  _ more than a 50% tip _ . Phil wasn’t sure what to say. Both times he’d seen Dan, they’d had full conversations.  _ Did I push him into talking? _

_ No,  _ Phil thought. Both last time and today, Dan was the one to start the conversation. Phil was happy to engage —  _ who wouldn’t be?  _ — but neither time had he forced Dan to keep talking. 

“Hey,” Emmalee interrupted his thoughts. “You forgot your nametag. If the boss comes in here and sees you without it, she’ll have a fit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> important!! several people have asked if i’m going to have an update schedule for this and i’ve decided i’m going to aim for updating wednesdays. you can also subscribe to the ao3 version so you get updates if you want!
> 
>  
> 
> thanks for reading <3 comments and kudos go a long way, motivation-wise :)


	3. 3 (3347 words)

 

The third and the fourth and the fifth time Dan came to the coffee shop were increasingly normal. Phil found himself falling into an easy routine. Dan came in, sometimes tired, sometimes not. He ordered the same coffee, sometimes one for a friend, sometimes not. He always lingered a bit, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for twenty. Sure, Phil still kind of sucked at making frappuccinos, but he’d become a right professional at making a triple espresso with one sugar

The sixth time Dan came in, however, he broke the routine.

It was nearing one o’clock — and the end of Phil’s shift — when Dan finally showed up. Phil breathed a sigh of relief. Dan hadn’t come in yesterday, and the previous day had been Phil’s day off. Weirdly, Phil was missing time with Dan, even though he was just a customer.

Well, there wasn't anything _just_ about him.

“Morning Phil!” Dan seemed more chipper than normal this afternoon. His curly hair was peeking out from a pale pink beanie --  a weirdly soft color choice for him, particularly with his black skinny jeans and jumper.

Phil smiled back at Dan, acutely aware that his smile might have been betraying how eager he was to see Dan again. "It’s afternoon, Dan. The usual?"

"Yeah," Dan dug his wallet out of his front pocket. Those damn heavenly tight jeans were just too tight to be functional. "And a blueberry muffin. For here."

Phil's hand stilled over the to-go cup he was reaching for. He smiled but didn't risk looking up to meet Dan's eyes. He wasn't sure he could contain his excitement about Dan committing to sticking around for a bit.

When he'd recovered from the shock, he teased, "Actually staying here? Does that mean you're not late for once?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Dan gave him a playfully annoyed look. "I'll have you know I actually have nothing on my schedule today, so the only thing I could have been late for was getting here."

Phil’s head cocked to the side in confusion. "How can you be late to a coffee shop?"

"Well, I didn't know when your shift ended and I wanted to be here before it. I just couldn't manage to get myself out of bed before noon today for some reason."

Phil was eternally grateful for the fact that he didn't have anything in his hands at that moment because, surely, he would have dropped it.

Why would you care about getting here during my shift?  
_Do you like chatting with me too?  
_ You have a day off and decided to come here?

Despite all of these — valid — questions running through Phil's head, all he managed was a perplexed, unintelligible "oh."

_Great conversation skills, Phil._

Luckily, Dan didn’t need any more encouragement to continue talking. He sat down on the bar stool in between the cash register and the espresso machine. "When I have the day off, I have a tendency to not leave my house at all and end up not socializing with anyone. I'm too much of an introvert for my own good sometimes."

Finally, Phil found his voice again as he sat Dan's muffin down in front of him. "Same, actually. That's mainly why I picked this job. I figured it'd force me to have some human interaction. Maybe meet some new people in London."

Dan raised his eyebrows and popped a small bit of the muffin in his mouth. "And how's that working out for you?"

Phil poured the right amount of beans into the espresso maker and shoved the mug under the spout, accidentally smacking it against the machine. "Not too bad. Emmalee — you know, the other girl who works here? She's pretty cool, we have a lot in common. And—" Phil paused apprehensively "—you, which has been really nice. So, there's two new nice people at least." Before he could hear Dan's reaction, he flipped the machine on. The loud _whir_ of the beans grinding was too loud to talk over, mercifully.

When the machine stopped, Phil looked back up at Dan. To his surprise, Dan's gaze was focused on his muffin, not Phil, and his cheeks were tinted light pink, almost the same color as his hat. _Did I make him blush?_

Dan stared at the muffin for a full minute while Phil finished making his coffee. If it weren't for Dan's rosy cheeks and the corners of his lips quirking up, Phil would be worried he’d said the wrong thing.

Finally, _finally_ , when Phil set Dan's drink next to his picked-apart muffin, Dan looked back up at Phil with a bright smile. It was the big, toothy smile that Phil was getting used to seeing, not the tighter, more reserved one that Phil saw in the media and on his instagram (not that he would ever admit to knowing as much as he did about Dan's public life, if avoidable).

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you picked this job, too. I was also in need of a new London friend.”

_Friend?_

_Did Dan consider Phil his_ **_friend_ ** _?_

Dan didn’t appear to notice Phil was in shock. “I didn’t leave my house at all yesterday — which is fully your fault by the way. I started watching Food Wars. I know you said not to watch it when I didn’t have good food at home, but I did.”

_He’d take friend._

Phil laughed — properly laughed. On instinct, his hand raised up to cover his mouth. He thought he saw Dan’s eyes follow the movement of his hand, but he couldn’t be sure. “It’s so good right?”

“I might not have left my couch for 6 hours.”

Phil laughed. “Yeah? I’m not surprised. The first few episodes are kind of awkward to get through, and I’ll admit I still hate Nakiri, but Yukihara and Tadakoro are definitely keeping me invested.”

“What? Nakiri is the best character!”

“Excuse me?” Phil demanded. “She’s the one with so much pride she failed Yukihara despite him making her the best “pedestrian” food she’d ever tasted!”

“I mean, fair point. She is rather prideful, but that’s only because she’s not used to being around other people. Can you really blame her, when she’s been considered a food genius for so long? I can’t imagine she has many people skills.”

“You’ve got that right,” Phil snorted. “But that doesn’t mean she should be failing people who fully deserve to go to the school! She has a responsibility to both the students and the staff to make sure only the best of the best get in, and Yukihara is definitely the best of the best!”

“Sure, but how do you explain Tadakoro getting in?”

Phil’s jaw practically fell open, and his cheeks heated up as he realized he’d been beaten. Tadakoro often didn’t seem like she really truly belonged at the culinary academy, but _still_. “At least Yukihara isn’t too prideful to actually help the other students!”

Somewhere during their heated debate, Phil had completely lost track of the time. Dan was so easy to talk to; it felt like they just _clicked_ . He liked that they had seemingly endless shared interests, but had opinions that were _just different enough_ to keep the conversation interesting.

The door chime caught both Dan and Phil’s attention. Phil expected to see a customer, but it was Emmalee.

“Philip, I am here to relinquish you from customer service hell.” She dropped her backpack on the counter. If she was surprised to see Dan sitting at the counter, she hid it well. “Hey, Dan.”

Dan smiled politely and nodded hello before turning his attention quickly back to Phil.

“Is your shift over?”

Phil glanced at his watch. _14:25._ Apparently him and Dan had managed to talk for nearly an hour and a half.

“Yeah, actually, looks like I’m off in five minutes.”

Dan looked almost disappointed. Or at least Phil thought he did. He was slowly getting better at reading Dan, but sometimes he wasn’t sure if the feelings he picked up were actually Dan’s or if they were just a hopeful projection of his own.

“I suppose I should get going anyway. I promised my Mum I’d ring her today. It’s my sister’s birthday this weekend and I think she wants to make plans.” Dan dropped a bill on the counter— Phil realized that he’d never actually taken Dan’s money earlier. _Oops_. “I’ll see you soon, Phil. Have a nice afternoon Emmalee.”

Phil waved goodbye to Dan. The bill on the counter was a twenty. Again, an over fifty percent tip on his tab of two coffees and a muffin.

Emmalee gently butted Phil out of the way of the cash register so she could clock in.

“He asked after you, you know.”

“Huh?”

“The other day. He came in when you weren’t working and he asked where you were.” Emmalee looked up, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Oh.” Phil couldn’t come up with anything better to say.

“If you ask me, it seems like somebody has a bit of a crush.”

Phil felt his cheeks and neck heat up. “Oh. I — uh. He has a girlfriend.”

Emmalee shrugged, cashing the twenty for him. “Right, like that’s ever stopped anyone from having a crush.”

“Wait, are we talking about me or him?”

Emmalee laughed. “Does it matter? My theory’s the same either way.”

______ _______ _______ _______ _______ _______ _

Upon getting back to his apartment, Dan looked around and surveyed the damage from nearly 36 hours of not leaving the house. Somehow, there were four mugs on the coffee table. _Four._

_Did I really have that much coffee yesterday?_

In addition to the four mugs, there were two half drank glasses of water, his dinner plate, two different gaming controllers, and his laptop. As much as he preferred his house to be tidy, this happened every time he hibernated. With an exasperated sigh at himself, Dan gathered the dirty dishes and carried them into the kitchen. He piled them on the counter and set his phone next to them, a safe distance from the sink.

“Hey Siri, call mum on speaker.”

While the phone rang, Dan started unloading the clean dishes from the dishwasher.

“Daniel James Howell, I told you to call me hours ago.”

Okay, so maybe Dan _was_ always late for something, regardless of what he was trying to convince Phil.

“Sorry, Mum. I was being social. For once.”

“That’s good, I get worried about you when you stay inside playing video games for too long. With Louise or Isabella?”

“Someone else, actually. I do have more than one friend and a girlfriend, you know.” _Technically._

“Not that I’ve ever heard of, dear.” She was teasing, but Dan could hear the ever-present undertone of concern in her voice.

“I… well… yeah.” Dan wasn’t sure what to say on the matter. He didn’t know how to explain that really most of his friends outside of Louise and Isabella were completely surface level but that he’d recently met a person he thought could be a real _friend_ . Somehow, he doubted his mum would really believe him when he said that he was actually making friends with his _barista._

 _Best to just change the subject._ “What did you want me ring about?”

“Oh! Adaline’s birthday is Friday.”

Dan put the last clean mug away — _jesus is all I drink coffee?_ — and started loading the dirty dishes. “I know, I have a reminder set. What do you want to do?”

“I was thinking we could come up to London for dinner. I know you said you’ve gone to some lovely restaurants. I’m sure she’d love to eat at one of those nice places. You can pick which one you think she’d like the most.”

“Yeah, okay. What time should I make a reservation for?”

“Does seven work for you?”

Dan headed to his room to round up any more dirty dishes, remembering at the last second to shove his mother in his back pocket.

“That’s fine. Is it just the four of us?” Dan asked absently. “Is Adaline still dating whats-his-face?”

“Mark? No. I think they broke up, unfortunately.”

“He was an idiot, Mum. Actual rocks are smarter than him.”

“He was such a nice boy, though. Sure, he wasn’t as smart as Adaline, but he had wonderful manners and he treated your sister right.”

“I suppose. Still doesn’t mean she has to date him.” Dan rolled his eyes as he picked up the glasses on his bedside table. “So just the four of us, then?”

“Actually dear—” _Uh oh, I know that tone._ “—I was thinking you could bring Isabella. We’ve all been hoping to meet her for a while.” Dan just about dropped the glasses.

_Are we there yet? Are we at the meet the parents stage?_

“Er—” Dan fumbled for an excuse. “I don’t want to step on Adaline’s birthday, I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate that.

“It was her idea, actually.” _Unlikely._ “So, will you bring her?”

“Oh. Um. I guess I’ll talk to her and see if she’s free.”

“Lovely, I can’t wait to meet her. Text me tonight to confirm that she’s coming, please. Have a good night, dear!”

Apparently, making birthday plans and dropping _that_ bomb was all his mother wanted, because she hung up almost immediately. As soon as he was off the phone, Dan rang Isabella. _No point in putting off asking her._

Isabella answered on the first ring, sounding relieved and a little bit upset. “Oh thank god you saw my text.” Quickly, Dan pulled the phone from his ear and put Isabella on speakerphone so he could figure out what the fuck the text was. “ _Please_ tell me you’re free tonight, baby.”

Dan scanned Isabella’s texts. Most of them seemed pretty mundane — she was ranting about her assistant again. _Ah, wait, there it is._ The last message seemed to sum up the problem.

Isabella: _So obvi, i had no choice but to fire her & now I’m like totally screwed. I mean like Fashion Week is NEXT MONTH _

Probably a beat too late, Dan responded, “Izzy, that sucks, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I have to sort through resumes tomorrow, but right now I’m just…” She let out a long exhale. “I’m just stressed. Can we, like, go have a drink or something? Maybe at that place down the street from my place?”

Dan was already searching through the pile of clean laundry for a button down. “Of course, babe. When do you want me to be there?”

He thought he heard Isabella sniffle. _I hope she’s not crying._ “I’m already home, so can you just text me once you have a table at the bar?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” He pulled off his beanie and grumbled at the way the hat had made his hair look. He thought briefly about putting the hat back on, but the bar was too nice of a place for that. _Oh well, nothing to be done about it now._ “I’m leaving in just a few minutes, so I should be there in half an hour, okay?”

“You’re the best, Danny. Mwah!” Isabella hung up before Dan said goodbye.

 

The bar was more crowded than Dan had expected for four pm on a Wednesday — although Dan figured that was probably what Isabella liked about this place. He’d learned early on that she always preferred lively, crowded places when they went out.

Dan had barely made it through the door before the hostess rushed off to set up his and Isabella’s favorite table. Dan waited to text Isabella until the bartender had served them their usual drinks — a gin martini with a twist for Dan, and a vodka martini with a lemon peel (because olives are just _too fatty_ ) for Isabella.

By the time Izzy arrived, Dan was already halfway finished with his martini. Isabella came through the door uncharacteristically quietly. Normally, she stopped to talk to at least three people on her way to their table, but today she made a beeline for Dan. She didn’t even wait until she was fully seated to start telling him about her day.

“Babe, today was a _mess!_ ” she said.

Apparently, her assistant had given Isabella’s measurements to all of her tailors wrong, and all of her clothing had come back too big. Dan wasn’t sure why, but Isabella seemed to interpret that as a personal attack against her, and assumed her assistant thought she was fat.

Dan drank two and a half more martinis while Isabella told him the rest of the story. Truthfully, he wasn’t fully convinced her assistant deserved to be fired, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say that out loud. Forty-five minutes later, Isabella finally seemed done ranting, and Dan decided to broach the topic of Friday night with her. He considered waiting until tomorrow to talk to her about it, but he knew his mum would pester him later if he didn’t confirm tonight that Isabella was coming.

“Hey, Izzy, I know this probably isn’t the best time to bring this up, but Friday is Adaline’s birthday.”

“What the fuck, Dan?” Isabella exploded.

Dan recoiled. _Woah, that’s not the reaction I expected._ He was afraid that anything he said would make the situation worse, so he wait for Isabella to continue.

“Who the fuck is Adaline? You told me you weren’t seeing any other girls!”

 _Oh, clearly she doesn’t remember who Adaline is._ Dan reached across the table and covered Isabella’s hand with his own. “I promised you I’m not seeing other _people_ , Izzy, and I’m _not_. Adaline is my sister, remember?”

Isabella smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Clearly she wasn’t entirely happy about something he’d said. “Oh right, silly me. I knew that.”

Dan squeezed her hand and gave her a small smile. “It’s okay, I know you’ve had a rough day. I shouldn’t have brought this up right now.”

Perhaps as a sign of forgiveness, Isabella flipped her hand over and interlaced her fingers with Dan’s. “So what about her birthday? Do you need help, like, finding her a present? I’ll go shopping for you!”

Her willingness to help made Dan happy. “I already have her present. Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to come to her birthday dinner with me? My parents and her are coming to London on Friday to celebrate.”

From the wide smile on her face, Dan never would have guessed that Isabella had been nearly crying fifteen minutes ago. “Danny!” she squealed. “I would _love_ to come! I’ve been _dying_ to meet your family. Honestly, I was, like, getting a little annoyed that you hadn’t introduced me to them yet.”

Dan tried his best to keep his surprise off his face. “Well, it’s only been a few months, and I’ve been really busy with work.”

“But they’ve been _such_ totally perfect months. Whatever, it doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you’re taking me to meet your parents on Friday. This is an exciting step, babe!”

_It’s a step, alright._

Dan just wasn’t sure it was a step he was ready for.

“This calls for a celebration, I think. I’m going to go to the ladies’ room, you take care of the check so we can go back to my place. I’ve got one of those nice bottles of champagne in the fridge and I think we deserve it.”

Isabella primly sat her folded napkin on the table and stood up. Before heading to the loo, she stepped around to Dan’s side of the table, moving in close. Her hand landed on his knee and teasingly ran up his thigh, stopping just centimeters from his hip. Her lips brushed his earlobe when she leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“I think you deserve something too, babe.”

She punctuated her statement with a suggestive squeeze of his thigh before she sauntered away, her hips swaying with every step.

_On second thought, maybe this step was a brilliant idea._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks [snowbunnylester](http://www.snowbunnylester.tumblr.com) for helping me tons and talking about food wars, which i’ve never seen oops.
> 
> comments and kudos always make me smile :)


	4. 4 (5893)

He hadn’t planned on spending Wednesday night at Isabella’s, but, well… by the time she was done _celebrating,_ he was exhausted and more than a little tipsy.

The next morning was slow; it was rare that their schedules allowed them to lounge in bed in the morning. Regardless of the day of the week, at least one of them usually had a meeting, or a shoot, or a rehearsal to go to. But on that morning, Isabella only got out of bed briefly, just to fetch two cups of coffee and the television remote, before settling back in between Dan’s legs with her back pressed warmly against his bare stomach. Without asking, she put on some inane reality show, but Dan was content to endure it in exchange for intimacy. During moments like this, Dan could feel his hesitations about his relationship with Isabella melt away.

He’d gotten into a bit of a fight about it with Louise earlier that week.

Well, _fight_ might have been a strong word. It was more of an _impassioned disagreement._ She’d demanded that he explain what he saw in Isabella, what could possibly make up for the (admittedly large) amount of bullshit she pulled.

_“It’s nice,” he’d said. “Having someone who’s always willing to try new restaurants or bars with me.” He’d paused then, trying to figure out how to say what he was thinking. “And the physical stuff, too. It’s nice to have that.”_

Louise had promptly informed him that 1) she was always willing to try any new restaurant with him and 2) if he was looking for sex, all he had to do was go to a bar and actually talk to someone.

He’d been unable to articulate it then, but _this_ was it. _This_ was the reason he “overlooked all of her shit” (Louise’s words, not his). Random sex from a bar wouldn’t result in easy, intimate mornings like this. Random sex from a bar wouldn’t result in finding someone who was willing to stick around, willing to overlook _his_ shit. Random sex from a bar was just that: sex. No romance, no affection, no dates. Just sex.

Eventually, though, the morning had to end. They had to get out of bed and begin their days. By the time Dan had pulled his jeans on and Isabella had begun her makeup routine, the spell was broken.

 

Friday night came faster than Dan anticipated. Thursday morning’s lie in meant he was playing catch up for the next day and a half. He had half a dozen emails to respond to about an upcoming demo, and he was supposed to have three new songs samples in a month and a half. Currently he had a few melodies and a few lyrics, just nothing that went together.

At five, Dan forced himself to put his guitar down — not that he’d been terribly successful in writing anything — and shower. He’d agreed to meet Isabella at her apartment at half past six so they could go to the restaurant together.

For once in Dan’s life, he was actually ready for an event early; he had almost half an hour to kill. He considered having a drink while he waited until an appropriate time to leave, but he interrupted his own thought with a yawn. _Coffee, then._

He grabbed Addie’s present and his coat on the way out the door, not bothering to pull it on. As soon as Dan stepped outside and felt the frigid London air, he regretted not taking the moment to put his coat on, even if he was only going half a block to Beans and Grind.

Inside the coffee shop was warm though. Someone had lit the fireplace and the lights were softer than normal. But warmest of all, Phil was behind the counter.

“Don’t you look fancy,” Phil greeted him, his eyes slowly sweeping over his body as he took in his outfit. “I like the monochrome patterned shirt. It suits you.”

Dan squirmed under Phil’s gaze and ran a self-conscious hand down the lapels of his suit.

“It’s my sister’s birthday,” Dan supplied.

“Ah, I remember you mentioning that was this weekend.”

Dan nodded, astonished Phil had remembered something he’d said so quickly in passing, literally on his way out the door.

“So,” Phil’s voice tore Dan out of his thoughts. “What’s your evening order? I hope you aren’t planning to have a triple espresso at this hour.”

“Shut up, Dad. I can make my own bad decisions if I want.” Phil cocked an eyebrow and studied Dan for a moment, but otherwise didn’t respond. Dan had only managed to fluster himself. “Um, I mean, I’ll just have a single espresso, thanks.”

Phil chuckled and reached for the smaller to-go cup.

“No!” Phil startled at Dan’s outburst. “Um, for here, actually. I have a bit of time to kill before dinner.”

Phil grabbed a small mug and began making Dan’s coffee with practiced ease. “Dan Howell? Early? Is the world ending?”

“Hey! I won’t stand for being bullied. I’ll go find a different coffee shop.”

There was a flicker of panic in Phil’s eyes, so brief Dan questioned whether he imagined it, before he let out a hearty laugh. Normally, Phil covered his mouth when he laughed, but both of his hands were busy with the machine. Dan’s eyes were quickly drawn down to his mouth; he had to tear his gaze away when Phil started speaking.

“Good luck, mate. I don’t think there are any other quiet hipster coffee shops within one block of your flat, but you can try.”

Dan rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Just give me my coffee, you spoon.”

Obediently, Phil dumped a bit of sugar into Dan’s coffee and slid it across the counter at the same time Dan reached for the drink, far too restless to sit still. The movement forced their fingers into contact as Dan’s hand landed on top of Phil’s against the side of the hot mug. For a second, both boys stilled. Dan’s eyes flickered down to their hands and back up to Phil’s face. He had the urge push the mug away and tangle his fingers with Phil’s, but he couldn’t.

_Where did that come from?_

With a shy smile, Dan pulled his drink away and sat on the same stool as last time and took a large sip. Unfortunately, the temperature took Dan by surprise, and he sputtered as he tried to swallow his mouthful of coffee so he could open his mouth and pant.

_Great, now I look like a deranged dog._

“Jesus fucking hell, god _damn_ , that’s _hot_ .” The part of Dan that didn’t feel on _fire_ had half the sense to be embarrassed at his outburst. Phil, on the other hand, looked like he was doing everything he could to keep from laughing.

“ _Phillllll_ , I’m in _paainnnn_.” Dan’s high pitch whine broke the little composure Phil still had.

“What—did—you—expect?” Phil’s words came out in a staccato, punctuated by laughter. “The water—it was just boiling.”

Through his laughter, Phil filled a small cup with ice and handed it to Dan, who gratefully popped one in his mouth.

Dan held Phil’s gaze as they both lost control of their laughter, unable to look away from the giggling man in front of him; Phil didn’t break eye contact either. Their laughter subsided, but Dan continued to smile at Phil, lost in the moment.

Eventually — whether it minutes or hours or years later, Dan didn’t know — Phil snapped his eyes away, suddenly growing red in the face.

Roughly, Phil cleared his throat and looked back at Dan, not quite meeting his eyes. “So, tell me about your sister.”

Dan smiled. He was slowly getting used to this — used to the fact that someone besides Louise wanted to learn everything about him. But Dan felt it too. The more he talked to Phil, the more he wanted to get to know him.

“Hmm… She’s younger than me, she’s turning eighteen today.”

“Oh wow, that’s a big age difference. Like five years? My brother and I are only two apart.”

“That must be nice. I feel like when I left home she was still a child and now she’s not. I want to get to know her as, you know, an adult, but it’s hard. I keep a weird schedule.”

“That’s hard. It’s good that you want to spend more time with her, though. Hopefully you can, when she doesn’t have as strict of a school schedule. Has she thought about uni yet?”

“Yeah, she’s thinking of Imperial, actually, which would be nice. She’d be a lot closer so I could maybe hang out with her more. Plus, it’s a really good school.”

“No kidding. What’s she interested in?” Phil snuck a muffin out of the display case to munch on.

“Honestly, I’m don’t really know. She’s told me about it a few times, but… I know it has something to do with robots.”

“Like Big Hero 6?”

“That’s what I said!!!” Dan took a tentative sip of his coffee, hoping it had cooled enough to drink. “She’s always been more academic than me. Fuck, I didn’t even make it through a semester of uni before I dropped out to give music a go.”

“That worked out pretty well for you, I’d say.” Dan chuckled, looking down at the calluses on his hands from playing the guitar.  

“Yeah, I suppose it did. What about you? Did you do the whole uni thing?”

Phil picked off a bit of his muffin. “I did. Twice actually.”

Dan was impressed, albeit bewildered. _How could anyone stomach that much school?_ “Twice? In what?”

“I got my bachelors in english language and linguistics, and then I ended up getting a masters in video post-production.”

Dan’s jaw dropped. “You have a masters? And you’re working in a coffee shop?”

“Erm,” Phil muttered, looking uncomfortable _Shit that was probably so rude._ Dan snuck a bite of Phil’s muffin, needing to do something with his hands.

“Excuse you!” Phil playfully batted Dan’s hand away. “Keep your paws off my food, don’t you have your own dinner to go to?”

“Oh shit!” Dan looked at his watch. “I’m supposed to be at Isabella’s in five minutes.” Frantically, Dan pulled his phone out and ordered an Uber; luckily it wasn’t busy and the nearest car was only two minutes away.

“Ah yes, there’s the Dan Howell I know. I knew the early thing had to be a one-off.” Dan dropped a tenner on the bar. It was that or scrounge together coins to make £4.

“I thought I told you to not make fun of me, Philip.” Dan’s phone dinged, announcing that his Uber was approaching. “I gotta run. Seen you soon?” Dan wasn’t sure why it came out as a question — they’d long since passed the point where they were unsure if they’d see each other again.

“You know where to find me, Daniel. Have a good dinner with your sister!”

Dan smiled and waved as he attempted to back out of the door. Unable to do anything gracefully, he rammed his shoulder into the doorframe. _Oof._

“Dan! Watch where you’re going. Turn around and get out of here before you’re even later!”

“Yeah, yeah. Have a good night, Phil.”

As Dan climbed in the Uber, he couldn’t help but think that he’d much rather spend the rest of his evening at Beans and Grind than sit through what was sure to be an uncomfortable evening juggling his family and Isabella.

Instead, Dan texted Isabella to let her know he was on the way. He hoped she’d be ready when they arrived and would meet him outside, but months of picking her up didn’t give Dan much faith.

As expected, Isabella told him to come upstairs because she “wanted to see what he was wearing so they could match.” Disgruntled, Dan got out of the car and half-jogged into the lobby.

 _I really should put that damn coat on_.

Dan’s hands were empty, save for Adaline’s present. _Oh shit._ He thought back — he’d definitely had it when he left his flat, and he’d laid it on the stool next to him at Beans and Grind and — _yup, that’s definitely where it is_.

He glanced at his watch — they only had twenty minutes to get to the restaurant and apparently Izzy wasn’t even _dressed_ yet. _Well fuck. Too late to do anything about the coat now._

When Dan let himself into Isabella’s apartment, he found she wasn’t in the lounge or the bathroom.

“Izzy?”

“In the bedroom. Get in here.” Isabella snapped from the room over.

When Dan entered the bedroom, he found Isabella staring at four dresses she’d laid out on the bed, each a variation of the same dress. All of the dresses were form fitting, had low necklines, and only reached mid-thigh at best. None of them screamed “introduce me to your parents in this.” Wordlessly, Dan made a beeline for her closet and riffled through the many, _many_ dresses.

“Here, wear this one.” He pulled out a simple black dress. Unlike the dresses on the bed, the dress had a higher neckline and flared out at the waist. “You wanted to match, it’ll go with my shirt. And plus, you won’t look…” Dan cut himself off.

“Look what?”

“Um, it’ll be a looser dress, that’s all.”

“What?” Isabella’s tone was cold, condescending. “Don’t want me to look like a _puta_?”

Dan held his hands up in surrender. “No, no, that’s not what I was saying. You know I like those dresses, they’re sexy. But maybe sexy isn’t the right look when you’re meeting my family?”

Isabella’s face softened a little, and she plucked the dress out of Dan’s hand. “Fine, I guess you’re right.” She sounded resigned. “I do want to make a good impression on your family.”

Luckily, Isabella had already done her hair and makeup and only needed to pull on her dress and shoes. They were out the door and in another Uber (Select this time, _of course_ ) in a record 15 minutes.

For once, London traffic wasn’t too horrific, and they were only seven minutes late to their reservation. He’d hoped his family would already be seated, but they were stood by the door, waiting for Dan and Isabella to arrive.

“Addie! Happy birth—” Dan started to say, but was cut off by his mother.

“Daniel James Howell, where is your coat? It’s minus two outside!” His mother scolded him.

“I know, mother. I forgot it.” He could practically _see_ the lecture forming in his mother’s head, so he did the only thing he could think of to derail it. “Everyone, this is Isabella. Isabella, meet my Mum, Dad, and sister, Adaline.”

Isabella graciously greeted his family, kissing each of them on the cheek with soft exclamations of _hola preciosa_ and _comó estás señor?_ in her full Spanish charm.

_I guess she was serious about this making a good impression thing._

“Mr. Howell, thank you for dining with us tonight. Your table is right this way, sir.”

The host guided them to a small alcove in the back. When Dan made the reservation, he’d mentioned that he was coming for a birthday, so the restaurant must have taken care to reserve one of the more private tables.

“Will this be suitable?”

“Yes, definitely. Thank you.” Dan pulled a chair out for his sister. Isabella huffed quietly, pulling her own chair out to sit. Their waitress approached as soon as they were settled in.

“Good evening, my name is Ellie and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you started with something to drink?”

“A sparkling water, San Pellegrino if you have it, two ice cubes,” Isabella answered before anyone else had the opportunity to think.

“And I think normal water for the rest of us.” Dan looked at his family for confirmation; all three of them nodded, looking a little perplexed.

“Can I get you any wine or cocktails tonight?”

Dan handed the alcohol menu to his sister. “I’m sure we will, but I think the birthday girl needs a moment to decide.”

“Not a problem, I’ll be back with your waters.”

When the waitress left, Adaline whispered to Dan, “I’m not sure what to order, really. I’ve only had cheap vodka with my friends and boxed wine.”

Dan laughed, eyeing his parents to make sure he didn’t draw too much attention to Adaline’s confession. “Anything here will be better than those, I promise. How’d you like wine?”

Adaline flipped the menu over to look at the wine list. “It was fine? I liked the red one more than the white.”

Dan smiled and leaned closer to look at the menu over with her. “Me too. I recommend a chianti, since we are at an Italian restaurant.”

Adaline looked at the long list of chianti options on the menu. “Jesus, how do you pick one?”

With a shrug, Dan confessed, “Honestly, I usually pick based on which name I like best.”

Adaline stifled a giggle. “Okay, then, the Bellini Chianti it is. It’s the only one I can pronounce.”

“Perfect, that’s exactly how I’d make a decision too.”

Setting the wine list on the edge of the table, Dan and Adaline tuned back into the table’s conversation. Isabella was currently talking about her photoshoot with Vogue for the upcoming issue. Both of his parents were trying to show polite interest, but Dan could see the slightly glazed over look in his dad’s eyes and the forced smile on his mum’s face.  Dan was saved from having to intervene in the conversation when the waitress brought their waters.

“Did you decide on something else to drink?”

Dan gestured to Adaline, encouraging her to order. “Um, we’ll have a bottle of the Bellini Chianti, please.”

Dan glanced around and did a quick mental tally. A singular bottle of wine meant, what? A third of a glass each? _That won’t do_ . Surreptitiously, he tried to catch the waitress’ attention. He held up two fingers, shaking his head, hoping she’d understand that he wanted two bottles, not one. _Whatever, I’m picking up the check anyways._

The waitress seemed to catch on to Dan’s message. “Okay, so two bottles of the Bellini? Five glasses?”

“Yes, please,” Dan answered before Isabella could do something humiliating, like order a separate white wine.

When the waitress left, Dan’s mum launched into a story about their family dog, who apparently had eaten the birthday cake the neighbors brought Adaline earlier in the week.

It was nice. Dan was happy to be able to spend time with his family again, happy to hear about what he’d missed out on. Between a mini UK tour and promotion events, he’d been traveling a lot of the past six months. By the time their wine came, the conversation had turned to the topic of Adaline’s uni applications. Apparently she’d turned them all in just a few weeks ago and was anxiously waiting to hear the results.

Dan caught the waitress’s attention before she could leave.“Sorry, but can I get a small cup of ice, please?” The waitress nodded and promised to be back with it in a minute.

“What do you need ice for, Danny? You _hate_ cold red wine.” Isabella cooed, running her sharp nails lightly down his arm.

Dan winced at the comment, and tried not to look at his parents. He couldn’t help feeling like Isabella was rapidly alternating between trying too hard and being, well, _Isabella_. Undoubtedly, his parents were seeing through the facade and catching glimpses of how difficult his girlfriend could be.

“It’s kind of cringey,” Dan responded. “I was having a coffee earlier and drank it too soon after it was made and burned my tongue. I’m such a fail.”

“Oh, were you at that coffee place again, babe?” Isabella sounded nice, curious even, on the surface level, but he could hear the tense annoyance underneath. _I hope everyone else doesn’t realize._

Rather than risking saying the wrong thing — even though Dan _technically_ didn’t have anything to apologize for — he simply nodded.

“Wow, babe, you’ve been spending an awful lot of time there recently.” This time, the judgment, the annoyance, the skepticism was transparent enough that other people noticed — or at least his mother did. Her head tilted to the side, eyes flickering back and forth between Dan and Isabella, as she silently questioned Isabella’s passive aggressive comment.

He knew Isabella was possessive when it came to his time, and he knew he’d been spending an increasing amount of it at Beans and Grind. She’d hinted a few times that she wasn’t thrilled about how much time he was spending at _that mediocre coffee place_ when they could be _going out somewhere nice together_ , but her hints were never this blatant.

Their waitress must have a fucking _sixth sense_ or something though, because she appeared just as Dan’s mum was about to say _something_ about the coffee shop comment.

“Can I start you with an appetizer?” The waitress was poised with her notebook in hand.

“Yeah,” Dan picked up his menu. “We’ll have the bruschetta and the caprese salad,” he said, rattling off the first two appetizers that caught his eye.

“I’ll get that right out.” The waitress nodded with a smile, politely excusing herself.

Relieved, Dan put his menu back down again, hoping that the interruption would be enough to encourage a subject change. Unfortunately for him, Isabella immediately started talking again. _Fuck me._

Isabella ran her fingers through the ends of Adaline’s hair. “Love, why don’t we have a girls’ day for your birthday? You know, a shorter haircut and a manicure would really go a long way for you. ”

To her credit, Adaline laughed off the comment. “I prefer my hair long. I cut it short when I was 15 and it was a trainwreck. And I don’t usually bother with nail polish. It chips too quickly since I spend so much time working with robot parts.”

“You work with your hands? Ay, _querida_ , you are much too pretty to have to work with your hands.”

Dan honestly wasn’t sure which family member was closest to breaking into a rant on feminism and gender roles.

_Where the fuck is that waitress now?_

Unfortunately, the waitress — and social salvation — was nowhere to be found. By the time the waitress finally did reappear with the appetizers, Isabella had gone on to say at least five more borderline offensive things, ranging from offering his mum a better hair colorist _who knew how to naturally color in grey,_ to recommending her tailor to his dad because his suit _just didn’t fit right_.

While the rest of the family was enjoying their cheese and carbs, Isabella was looking over the menu. Eventually, she reached over primly with her fork and stabbed the single spring of (decorative) arugula on the plate of bruschetta.

“Danny,” she whined. “Why did you pick an Italian restaurant. You know I don’t eat carbs.”

Dan accidentally caught his sister’s eye. Her eyes rolled so dramatically that he could barely see anything but the whites of her eyes. It was a look he’d seen many times on camera and in gifs; apparently he made that exact face a lot. _Like brother like sister, it would seem._

“Do you know if eggplant parmesan has carbs in it?” Dan had to look away from Adaline; they were both too close to losing their composure and laughing. Isabella didn’t seem to notice though. She was typing away on her phone, not even bothering to try to hide it beneath the table.

“Dannnyyyyy,” she whined. “Google says that eggplant parmesan has, like, _seventeen_ grams of carbs in it! There is _nothing_ on this menu that fits with my low carb diet.”

Next to him, Adaline was hiding her fit of laughter in her napkin. Meanwhile, Dan could feel, more than see, the outraged look on his mother’s face.

“Um…” Dan tried to find something, _anything_ , to salvage this moment, but his mother cut him off first.

“Sorry dear, but in this family, our favorite food group is carbs.”

“Very true, Mum. I can barely go a meal without carbs, much less a day. I can’t imagine starting the day with anything other than a nice bowl of Crunchy Nut.” Adaline chimed in. She exaggeratedly scrutinized the menu. “Oh, Isabella, good news! There are some salad options that probably don’t have any carbs. Look, there’s a garden salad… wait, no that has croutons. I guess those count as a carb, huh? I suppose you could just push those off.”

Isabella was seething next to him. Given her history, Dan was honestly floored that she hadn’t taken the bait yet. Clearly she must be trying even harder to impress his family than he’d thought — not that she was doing a good job as it was, but _jesus christ_ , she must really be trying if she wasn’t throwing a temper tantrum.

She primly folded her menu and sat it on the edge of the table. “You’re right.” Her voice was dripping with forced niceness. “I think I’ll have a garden salad, without the croutons of course. Thank you for suggesting it, Adalina.”

In almost perfect synchronization, all four of their heads snapped to look at her.

“It’s Ada _line_ , actually.” Her voice was dripping sarcasm that she didn’t bother to hide. “But you’re welcome for the suggestion, Izzy.”

_Could this be going any worse?_

Mercifully, _mercifully_ , the waitress chose that moment to come back to take their dinner orders, turning to Adaline first.

“I will have the fettucini alfredo, please. Does that come with bread?”

“Yes, miss,” the waitress responded.

Isabella may not have been taking the bait, but it was clear that Adaline was.

“How many pieces of bread does it come with?”

The waitress looked thrown by the question. “I believe two.”

Adaline pretended to seriously consider this information. “I don’t think that will do. What do you think, _Danny_ , should we get an extra order of bread for the table?”

“Oh yes,” his dad chimed in, “that’s a lovely suggestion. Can you add extra cheese to it?”

Isabella was practically vibrating with anger. Never once in the eight months Dan had known her had he seen her _this_ mad and _not_ screaming. But she wasn’t. Her hands were folded in her lap — well, _clenched_ , more like, and she ordered her meal through equally clenched teeth. But she wasn’t screaming.

“The garden salad. No croutons, no side of bread. Some of us care about our figure.”

_Yikes, there it is._

“Yeah, I guess I’m just not very vain,” Adaline said with a shrug.

“I am not _vain_.” Isabella was on the verge of screaming now. “I am—”

“ ** _Anyway_** ,” Dan cut in. “I going to Germany for a charity concert in two months, let’s talk about that.”

“What kind of charity is it?” His mother latched onto the conversation, whether it was because she was interested or because she also wanted to avoid a scene, he didn’t care.

“It’s a fundraiser for youth mental health services. I know I just got back from traveling a lot, but it’s a good cause that I’m passionate about, so I decided to do it.”

While Isabella seethed quietly, his family excitedly asked about the concert. _What’s the charity’s name? Do you know who else is singing? Where in Germany?_

“When exactly is it?”

“The 15th of March.”

“Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan.” Adaline tugged impatiently on the sleeve of his suit. “That’s a Saturday.”

Dan gasped in fake surprise. “Is it really? I had no idea.”

Adaline shot him an exasperated look. “Daaannnn…”

Chuckling, Dan crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows. “Do you want something, Adaline?”

“You know what I want.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Well,” Dan reached under his chair. “This was _supposed_ to wait until after dessert, because that’s how birthdays work, but I guess you can open this now.”

Adaline’s eyes grew wide and she made grabby hands at the present. When Dan finally let her have it, she tore the paper off the small, rectangular box instantly.

“Oh my god.” In explanation, she held up a ticket for their parents to see. “Are you serious?”

“No, Addie, it’s a joke.” Dan deadpanned. Adaline was unamused. “Seriously though, I got a free VIP ticket for a plus one since I’m technically doing this for free.”

“Oh my god, this is the best birthday present ever!” Adaline threw her arms around Dan. “Thank you thank you thank you. When are we going?”

Dan laughed, quickly hugging his little sister back. He was glad he’d managed to get her a present she’d actually enjoy, and she _had_ been bothering Dan for ages now to let her come along to one of his shows.

“I still have a few details to work out with them. I’m not sure how early I have to be there for rehearsals, and I was hoping we could coordinate with your school schedule. But I’ll book our plane tickets when we know.”

“I can miss a day. Or two. Mum, please tell him I can miss a few days of school!”

“Well…” Their mum pretended to contemplate. “I _suppose_ it wouldn’t do any good to send you all the way to Munich if you can’t stay for a few extra days.” Instantly, Adaline launched into a negotiation about just _how many_ days she was allowed to miss, while their mum laughed and played along.

Suddenly, Dan felt a sharp _jab_ in the top of his foot. The stab of a fancy stiletto heel.

“I thought you were going to take _me_ to that concert,” Isabella hissed once she had Dan’s attention.

Dan’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I never said that. Why would you think that?” he grumbled back.

“I just _assumed_ you’d want to have a romantic weekend away with your girlfriend, not some weird vacation with your kid sister.”

“I told you I wanted to spend more time with her!” Dan glanced around, noticing that the conversation between Adaline and his parents was dwindling. “Look, Izzy, can we not do this here please?”

“Fine.” Isabella huffed, turning away from Dan. Instead of continuing to fight Dan, she seemed to throw her energy into trying to win over his parents again. She reached out and pulled Dan’s mum’s hand across the table, holding it up to her face.

“Oh, Mrs. Howell, I adore your ring.”

“Thank you. Dan got me this one for Christmas.”

Isabella rotated her hand back a forth a few times, evaluating the shine of the ring, before releasing her hold. “It’s lovely.” She turned her attention back to Dan. “Just so you know, babe, I prefer larger, single set diamonds. With more clarity and at least two karats.”

Dan could feel the color draining from his face as the table went deathly quiet. _What in the actual fuck??_ He felt like introducing her to his _parents_ was rushed, and she was thinking about _engagement rings?_

He had never in his life been so happy to see a goddamn salad than at that moment when the waitress sat down Isabella’s plate in front of her. The rest of their food followed, and everyone was distracted by their meals — or at least pretended to be. There were a few minutes of awkward silence, but eventually the conversation found a different topic.

The rest of the meal didn’t go any better. The entire time, Dan could feel how hard Isabella was trying to impress his family, but she was going about it the _wrong_ way. Instead of trying to get to know them, or trying to build a connection with them, she spent the whole time _bragging_ about her modeling career. Adaline didn’t help the situation by continuing to poke fun at Isabella — Dan _really_ shouldn’t have found it as funny as he did.

Isabella, surprisingly, was enduring it with a tight smile. Despite having nearly erupted into multiple fits throughout the night, she managed to keep a hold on her temper. The only sign of her irritation was her grip on her wine glass becoming firmer and firmer with every joke Adaline made at Isabella’s expense. The knuckles of her hand holding the glass were actually turning white with the pressure — Dan seriously considered taking the glass from her hand, scared she would snap the stem in half. She hardly talked to Dan, though, clearly still angry with him for giving his one VIP ticket to his sister instead of her. Honestly though, Dan was thankful for her silence.

Finally, dinner drifted to an end, and they ordered dessert. Over the tiramisu — which Isabella rudely refused to eat, of course — Adaline opened the rest of her presents. Dan was amazed that Isabella bothered to bring a present for Adaline. It was obvious, though, that Isabella didn’t remember anything that Dan had ever told her about Adaline, because if she had, she would have known that Adaline would never have any desire for a £50 card to Victoria’s Secret.

This dinner literally could not end fast enough.

 

As soon as the car door shut, the smile fell from Dan’s face.

“What the _fuck_ was that, Isabella?”

Isabella’s eyes were wide and innocent. “What was what?”

“That!” Dan waved his hand in the general direction of the restaurant. “That… _performance_ back there. I don’t know what was worse, you _insulting_ my family or you _showing off_ to them.”

“Danny, I think you’re being a bit dramatic,” Isabella replied, rolling her eyes “Your mother gave me a big hug and said that it was lovely to meet me when we left.”

Dan dragged his hands down his face. “Let’s not talk about this right now.”

Rather than dropping the conversation, though, Isabella placed her hand on his knee, slowly sliding it up to gently caress his inner thigh.

“You’re right, baby. Why don’t we focus on something else, something we can _agree_ on.”

For once, Dan _really_ didn’t want to have sex with Isabella. Frankly, he didn’t even want to look at her. He unceremoniously shoved her hand off his thigh.

“Not tonight, Izzy.” His voice was cold, harsher than he’d ever heard it be.

Desperate for some space, Dan would have been content with the rest of the car ride being spent in silence. But _space_ had never been Isabella’s forte. In fact, most of their fights began because Isabella refused to _let things go_ or let Dan have a moment to _fucking breathe._

So Isabella wasn’t silent. She moved from asinine topic to asinine topic, needing no encouragement from Dan. The evening’s events were playing on loop in his head, but he kept coming back to that terrifying moment where Isabella described her ideal fucking _wedding ring_.

_What the fuck was she thinking??_

When the Uber pulled up to Isabella’s apartment, she tried a second time to entice Dan. “Why don’t you come upstairs, babe? I’ll put on that little thing you like and we can do _whatever_ you want.”

Dan leaned forward and gave the Uber driver his address.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you, as always, to the wonderful [ auroraphilealis ](http://www.auroraphilealis.tumblr.com)


	5. 5 (5049 words)

Dan woke up to a persistent vibration coming from under his head. Sleepily, he pushed himself up on his elbows and tried to dig his phone out from under his pillow with his eyes closed. Finally, his fingers latched around the phone and he tapped the answer button without processing who was calling.

"About time you answered, Daniel. I've called three times today." His mother sounded annoyed, but not distressed .

"Sorry, Mum." Dan forced himself into a sitting position, propping up against the headboard. The curtains were drawn tight over the window, blocking almost all light from entering the room. "What time is it?"

"It's nearly 8:30. I thought you said you had a busy day today. Are you’re just now waking up?"

"Huh?" Dan rubbed his free hand down his face, trying to wake himself up. _What am I supposed to do today?_ Mentally, he ran through his to-do list. _Grocery shop, working on writing new music, plan Germany — Ah, yes._ That's what he was supposed to be working on today. Belatedly, he realized he hadn't answered any of his mother's questions. "Yeah, I just woke up. I kind of had a late night last night."

"Oh." His mother's voice was clipped. "I suppose you and Isabella did something after dinner, then?"

All at once, the previous night's events rushed back to him. _Fuck_. "Um, no, actually. I, uh... I didn't spend any more time with Izzy last night."

"Oh?" The tone of his mother's voice shifted. "Why was that?"

"You were at the same dinner as me. I'm sure you can imagine why."

His mother was silent for a minute. Dan wasn't sure if she was hoping that he would elaborate, but there was no other information he was willing to volunteer on the matter.

Eventually, his mum spoke again. "It's been a long time since you introduced us to anyone you’ve dated, you know." Dan could tell that whatever she meant to say, that wasn't it. Or at least not all of it.

"What's your point, Mum?"

"Just that after you broke up with Alex you implied that you weren't planning to bring anyone else home unless you were... how did you put it? Sure of them?"

"Correct, that's what I said."

"Does that mean you’re _sure_ about Isabella?"

_Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the Camel._

"You practically forced me to bring her, remember Mum?"

"You've been dating nearly a year, surely that's long enough to mean that you're _sure_ of someone."

"That's... one thought."

"She's talking about wedding rings, how else am I supposed to think?"

Dan fell forward, burying his face into the fluffy duvet. "God, that actually happened, didn't it?"

"I think you should really consider whether this is the person you want to marry." Dan tried to interrupt, but his mother kept barrelling on. "Out of all of the people you've brought home, she's by far been the worst. She was rude and controlling and condescending. You're lucky your sister is so confident or I'm sure your _girlfriend_ —” the word was dripping with distaste "— would have upset her."

"Mum— " Dan sat back up, shoving the duvet off him. If his mum was going to get into this conversation, he needed coffee.

His mother kept talking, ignoring his protest. "I cannot believe you're serious about someone like her, Dan. Do you not see how vain and self-absorbed she is?"

"Listen—" Dan tried to interrupt her again.

"And the way she talks about you, it's very concerning dear. I don't want to speak out of turn—" _Too late there, Mum._ "— but she seems to only be interested in your relationship for shallow reasons."

"MUM, STOP." Dan all but screamed. "Let me talk, will you?"

His mother sighed deeply, but didn't say anything else.

"I'm _not_ thinking of marrying Isabella. That was the first time I've heard her mention a ring and — well, that's not where I'm at in this relationship." Dan grabbed a plain black mug from the cabinet.

"Then where are you in this relationship?"

"I'm not serious, I promise. I'm, uh..." Dan trailed off, not sure how phrase this gently for his mother. "In it for pretty shallow reasons, too."

That shut his mother up.

There was almost a full minute of silence while his mother recovered. While he waited for his mother to piece together what was so _shallow_ about their relationship, Dan began pouring coffee grounds into the coffee maker.

"You mean you're using her for publicity and money too? Your career is going plenty well on without that!"

This time, Dan was the one shocked silent. Dan snapped out of it when the coffee grounds were overflowing from the basket onto the counter. _Shit fuck_. Desperately, Dan tried to shovel some of the grounds back into the bag.

“Dan? Are you still there?”

"Sorry.” Dan called it good enough and flipped the machine on. _Guess the coffee is just gonna be strong today_. “Um, no. That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then?"

"What do _you_ mean?" Dan was baffled.

"She's clearly using you, Dan. You know models rarely get the kind of recognition that very famous singers do and, well, I get the impression that that is what she is looking for. I don't know what you could possibly be getting from her that makes it a fair exchange. The way she treats you is dreadful, and it's so obvious that she —"

"SEX!" Dan interrupted before he could process his own words.

"What?"

"I don't know what you think I'm in it for, but, um..." Dan trailed off, fiddling with his empty mug.

Finally, his mum seemed to get the picture.

"You're telling me you're just in this relationship for sex?" Her tone was eerily neutral.

Dan could feel his cheeks burning. "Well, um... Do we have to have this conversation, Mum?"

"Yes, Daniel. This is important."

"Jesus fucking... It's not just _that_..." Dan tried to think of how he'd phrased it to Louise last week, and find a less descriptive way of saying it to his mother. "Look, being in a relationship is nice right? You get a lot of... stuff that you wouldn't get if it were just... _that_."

"You're going to have to be more transparent."

"She likes going out to bars and restaurants and she pushes me out of my shell, which is good sometimes. She's affectionate and can be really nice, I swear. I know you didn't see that last night, but I promise. I just like being with her, when it’s just us, and she’s. You know. More herself." _Less shitty,_ Dan tacked on in his head.

His mother silently contemplated his words. "But you're not thinking of marrying her?"

"Fucking hell Mum, I already told you. No."

"And it's not serious?" She sounded hopeful, happier than she had the whole phone call.

"Not to me."

"It clearly is to her. Does that mean it may become serious?"

"Look, Mum." Dan ruffled his hair. “I’m not dating for a life partner right now. I’m just dating.”

"Well, Daniel, I'd highly advise you to stop seeing her before things _do_ get serious."

"What happened to liking and supporting everyone Addie and I bring home? You adored Adaline's last boyfriend and he was a dumbass." With more force than necessary, Dan pulled the coffee pot from the machine, a bit of it sloshing out and burning his hand. _What a great start to the day._

"You know I support you, and your sister, no matter what. And that's why I'm saying this. Isabella seems like danger, mark my words."

“Jesus, you make her sound like I’m dating the fucking devil or something, Mum. She was nervous, she wanted you guys to like her. Sure, she was… a lot, but that’s not how she is all the time, okay? And just because she’s more extroverted than me doesn’t mean she’s _controlling_.”

“She didn’t come across as controlling just because she’s more extroverted, she came across as controlling because she seemed to have very strong opinions about how and where you spend your time. Don’t think I didn’t notice her reaction to you giving Adaline that ticket.”

“Oh.” What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? “I mean… to be fair, she’s gone on the last few little trips with me, so I can see where she’s coming from.”

“I don’t care if you’ve taken her on a million trips, she still shouldn’t _expect_ that you bring her somewhere and be mad when you don’t. I can’t fathom why you’re dating her if you aren’t serious. Surely you could find sex elsewhere. I’m not sure if you realize this, but you’re famous.” Right. That was where he got his snark.

His cheeks had only just calmed down from the _last_ time his mother made him talk about his sex life, but they flushed red hot again.

“Mum, I told you. It’s not just… _sex_.” The word came out strangled. “That was a poor choice of words earlier. It’s more than that. It’s nice to have someone who always wants to do something with me, especially when we decide just to lounge at her place and watch a movie in bed together. You know I’ve always been a physical person and I can’t get that from a friend and I _certainly_ can’t get it from a… fuck buddy.”

“So find someone else to have intimacy with,” she said, almost begging.

“I don’t have _time_ for that, Mum. I’ve been traveling almost constantly and now I’m working on a new album.”

“Get one of those dating apps that your sister uses. She’s been on three dates since she’s been single.”

“Right, I can see that going fantastically. I’m sure famous people have great luck finding meaningful relationships on Tinder.”

“Okay, well maybe you’re right there. But regardless, darling, I want you to be happy, both now and in the future. I think you need to remember that by dating her, you are closing yourself off from other relationships. And even if you are only looking for something temporary and light, you can do better than her, Daniel.”

Dan’s phone started buzzing. He pulled the phone away from his ear enough to look at the caller id. “Mum, Louise is calling me. I need to answer this.”

“Tell her hello and I expect her round for dinner soon. Think about what I said —”

Dan cut her off before Louise’s call could go to voicemail — and before she went into another lecture. “Goodbye, Mum. Love you.”

* * *

 

Phil was mopping up the rainwater that customers had tracked in when the door chime rang. _Great, another customer to bring in more water._ Phil started to make his way back to the register, looking up at the new customer.

“Dan!” He smiled brightly.

Dan looked adorable — a mess, but adorable. He was sopping wet from the rain, his hair drenched, and his white jumper soaked through and clinging to his body. In his arms, he was carrying a young girl — maybe five or six. She was wrapped in what appeared to be Dan’s black raincoat. He flashed Phil a brief, but warm smile before turning his attention to the girl.

“Okay, Darcy, down you go.” The girl shook off the raincoat as Dan lowered her to the ground. In her hands, she was holding Dan’s phone, coloring books, and a laptop.

“Here you go, Uncle Dan.” She held the objects up for him. Dan took them from her hands, setting them on the bar. Phil briefly thought through his last conversation with Dan — he’d said that his sister was turning eighteen? Or nineteen? Regardless, this couldn’t be her child, right?

“Thank you. Darcy, can you say hello to Phil? Phil, this is Louise’s daughter, Darcy.”

“Hi Phiwl!” The little girl — Darcy — waved up at Phil eagerly. “Can I have something to drink?”

Phil waved back at her as Dan lifted her into one of the high chairs at the counter. “Of course, but what do you tell Mummy?”

The little girl put on a stern face and wagged her pointer finger around. _God, she’s the cutest._ “Uncle Dan said no sugar!”

“Good girl. Now, how about some hot chocolate?”

She clapped her hands together. “Yayyy!”

Finally, Dan properly looked up at Phil.

“Hey Phil,” he said, dimples on full display.

“Hey Dan.” Between Dan’s cute interaction with a tiny child and his deep dimples, Phil couldn’t stop smiling. He dragged his eyes over Dan’s outfit once again. His black jumper was soaked completely through. “You’re wet.”

“Am I really?” Dan deadpanned. He pulled out his wallet — which was somehow also a bit damp — and smiled again. “I only had one waterproof jacket and I figured better me than her.” He jerked his head towards Darcy.

 _How sweet._ “Why’d you go out at all? It’s downpouring out there.”

“The wifi cut out at my flat and I desperately need to do some work today.”

“I see. So you’re going to be here for a while?” Phil wiped down the counter where Dan was dripping water.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind Darcy and I bothering you,” Dan said with a nervous chuckle.

“Of course not. You look freezing though.”

“Er, yeah. Didn’t think this through.” Dan pulled the wet jumper away from his chest slightly. "Sorry, I'm getting the floor all wet. You were just mopping, too."

Phil shrugged. Secretly, he thought it was worth the floor getting wet again if he got to see Dan looking so adorable. Plus, his wet jumper was clinging a bit tighter than usual and… well, it didn’t leave a ton to the imagination.

“Don't worry about it. I wasn't finished anyway." Phil tapped his employee id into the ipad. "So a hot chocolate and triple espresso, one sugar?"

"Yup," Dan nodded. He lowered his voice. "Go a little light on the whipped cream, though, will you? I'd rather her Mum not completely kill me."

Phil giggled. Apparently Dan was the fun, only somewhat responsible, uncle. But then again, "only somewhat responsible" was probably the best you could hope for when that uncle was a loaded, famous musician.

Phil swiveled the ipad around to face Dan and grabbed two mugs, moving down to the espresso machine. He'd long since stopped telling Dan how much he owed, partially because it was often the same, but mostly because it always made Phil feel more awkward when Dan left a fifty percent tip.

When Dan was done paying, he held up a finger at Phil and mouthed _be right back_. Phil watched him out of the corner of his eye as best as he could while he made the coffee. Dan had returned to the little girl and was helping her pick out a picture in her coloring book while trying to dig out the crayons from the small box. Honestly, he'd probably be better off just letting her get the crayons out; his hands were much too big to be easily fitting in the box.

"Which one are you going to color, Darce?"

"Hmmm. I like this one and this one." The little girl pointed to two of the pictures. "I wanna make one for you for your fridge-a-gater."

Dan smiled at the little girl, playing with her ponytail. "I'd like that. You pick which one."

The little girl looked at the book with serious concentration. "I'm gonna do Eeyore because you were all grumpy this morning."

Phil could see Dan trying not to roll his eyes. "That will look great on my refrigerator. I'll be right over there okay? Let me know if you need me."

The little girl was too entrenched in her coloring to respond. With a quick glance back at the girl to make sure that she was okay, Dan slid down the bar until he was in front of Phil. He leaned his long arms on the counter and rested his head in his hands, flashing Phil another wide smile.

"Hey there," he drawled. _Flirty?_

"Long time, no see." Phil sat Dan's coffee down in front of him. "Drink up, Mr. Grumpy. Apparently you need it."

"Shut up. I had an early morning, okay? My mother decided to call at eight thirty."

Phil looked up from the hot chocolate he was making, unamused. "I've been here since seven, I don't want to hear it."

Dan shot him a sympathetic look. "Yeah, well, I was up super late, okay."

"For your sister's birthday thing! How was it?"

Dan winced. "I don't want to get into it. She was great, family was great, food was great. Isabella, not so great."

 _Ah, right. Isabella_.

Phil didn't know much about her, other than what he saw in the media. Dan rarely talked about her — really only bringing her up if he was on his way to meet her. From what he’d seen online, they looked fairly happy. They were always photographed out and about, usually at bars or fancy restaurants. Phil knew how relationships in the public eye could be though — sometimes they looked amazing from the outside but terrible from the inside. From the little he'd heard Dan mention Isabella, it didn't seem like the best relationship. But, hey, who was he to judge.

"Uh oh, that doesn't sound good," Phil said.

Dan made an expression that, if there wasn't a child present, would probably have been accompanied with a _fuck it._ Instead, he brought his coffee cup up to his lips, taking a tentative sip.

"Ah, warmth. That's great. I'm freezing."

"Oh!” Phil suddenly remembered. “I have a jumper in the back. It’s dry. You could put that on if you want?”

Dan’s eyes widened. “Yeah that’d be great, actually. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. I’ll be right back.”

Phil ducked into the back room. Well, more of a closet really. He opened his backpack and gently unwound the jumper from his camera. With less care than he should, Phil set the camera back in his bag and headed back into the coffee shop.

“Here,” he threw the jumper at an unsuspecting Dan. The jumper smacked him in the face and fell to the counter with a soft _thud_. “It’s a bit off brand for you, sorry.”

Dan held up the bright blue jumper. “Pugs not drugs?” he read, laughing. “God, Phil, you’re too precious for this world.”

Phil could feel the blood rushing up to his cheeks. Dan had always been known for his high end, edgy fashion sense. Phil’s quirky pug jumper was probably really different from what he was used to wearing. Phil hoped it would be okay.

Dan looked towards the door and then Darcy, who was concentrating on her coloring. Seeing that nobody was around, and with absolutely no warning, he pulled the soaked white jumper over his head, leaving him bare chested in the middle of the coffee shop. Phil could see cursive words inked down his left ribcage. _Oh god._

Suddenly, Phil was worried about blood rushing to a different part of his body entirely.

“Yes, Daddy.”

The words were out of Phil’s mouth before he could stop them. Luckily, they’d come out in a joking tone, at least, but he still couldn’t quite believe he’d said them. Before Dan could so much as react, Darcy interrupted.

“Why did he call you daddy, Uncle Dan? You don’t have any babies.”

Dan trained his eyes on Phil, quirking an eyebrow.

“That’s a good question, Darcy. Apparently Phil doesn’t realize that I’m definitely _not_ a Daddy. I’m much too _little_.” Dan said slyly, his tone not-so-subtly hinting at a double meaning.

Phil choked on air and did his best to remain composed. He didn’t feel like he was doing a great job. How could he? Dan was standing just across the bar, shirtless, and dropping hints that he was into, well, _that_.

“That’s... something to remember.” Phil’s voice came out husky.

Dan winked at him. _Was Dan flirting with him?_ “I bet Phil wants to be a Daddy though.”

Phil swallowed thickly. He glanced over — Darcy appeared to have lost interest and gone back to coloring. His eyes flickered back to Dan, feeling daring. “Not exactly the name I’d choose, if given the option.”

Dan’s eyebrows shot up, looking both stunned and interested. “And what name would you choose, if given the option, Phil?”

Phil leaned his elbows on the counter and placed his head in his hands, much like Dan had earlier. From this position, he was eye level with Dan’s chest. It wasn’t a bad view. “You’re a smart boy, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Dan looked down at him with an unreadable expression in his eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his parted lips.

“Sir?” Dan’s voice sounded strangled.

For the first time since Dan had pulled his wet jumper off, Phil finally sensed he had the upper hand. Curious to see Dan’s reaction, Phil lowered his voice. “Good boy.”

From where he was leaning, Phil could see a deep red flush spread across Dan’s bare chest, up his neck, and into his cheeks. His head fell back in a quiet groan. “ _Jesus,_ Phil. Warn a guy, will ya?”

The groan that tumbled from Dan’s lips sent Phil’s mind to dark places. He had visions of Dan making that noise from underneath him as Phil kissed down his neck. If Dan was so reactive to being called “good boy” in a _coffee shop_ , Phil couldn’t even begin to imagine what it did to him in the bedroom.

Phil shook his head, trying to drag his mind back into this moment and away from… _that_ image. Forcefully, Phil let out a gruff laugh.

Dan gave him an unamused look, still looking suspiciously pink, and defiantly pulled the jumper over his head. The sweater hung a little looser on him than it did Phil. Dan’s hands were just barely peeking out of the sleeves and his sharp collar bones were jutting out above the neckline.

Those collar bones. They should be illegal. Phil had to bite back the urge to trace his finger down them.

“It looks good on you. It’s good to see you in —” Phil cut himself off before he could say _my clothes._ “Colors,” he amended.

Dan fiddled with the hem of the jumper. “Thanks. It’s a bit different from the monochrome, huh?”

“It is. The monochrome is good, too. This is just... brighter.” _Sexier_.

Dan chuckled, pulling himself together, and opened his laptop as he sat on the stool nearest Phil. Phil knew Dan had to work, but he wasn’t willing to let Dan stop talking to him just yet, especially not when it was possible they just been flirting.

“So, what’s it say?” Phil asked, nodding his head at Dan.

Dan looked back up from his laptop quickly. Clearly, he wasn’t too opposed to a distraction. “What’s what say?”

“Your tattoo.” Phil leaned across the bar and poked Dan’s side for emphasis.

“Oh!” Dan smiled. “It’s ‘don't waste your time, or time will waste you’. It’s a line from—”

“Knights of Cydonia,” Phil finished for him excitedly.

“Yeah.” Dan tilted his head. “You know Muse?”

“I _love_ Muse,” Phil corrected. It felt like the more he learned about Dan, the more they had in common.

“I like Muse and you like Muse, let’s be friends.”

Phil laughed at Dan’s antics. “So what inspired the tattoo?”

“One, Muse is amazing.” Phil nodded his head in agreement, smiling widely. “Two, they are kind of who got me really into music. Three, it’s a good motivator.”

“I like it, it’s cool. It looks good on you.” Phil’s voice unintentionally dipped low again.

Dan blushed again — _god he blushes so easily._ “Thanks.”

Phil was about to mention the idea for a tattoo he had, but was interrupted by the door chime. He looked apologetically at Dan. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

Dan smiled back. “No worries, I should probably actually do some work, seeing as that’s why I came here and all.”

Phil walked back to the register to serve the customer, who fortunately only wanted a simple coffee and a muffin. Dan beamed at him from behind his laptop when Phil walked passed him on the way to the bakery display. Without thinking, he grabbed an extra muffin, setting it down in front of Dan on his way back to the register.

Dan glanced up and mouthed “ _for me?_ ” Phil sent him a quick nod and handed the customer her bagged muffin.

When the customer was gone, Phil sat down on the employee stool and pulled out his phone. His eyes flickered up to check on Dan, almost out of habit. He saw that Dan had torn the muffin in half and given the bigger half to Darcy. _God, he’s just too perfect_.

Suddenly, Phil was hyper aware of the fact that Dan had a _girlfriend._ He was in a _relationship_. He probably had fans that ignored that fact all the time, and here Phil was _totally_ disrespecting the fact that he _wasn’t single._

Embarrassed, Phil turned his attention back to his phone, deciding to let Dan work uninterrupted for a little while.

Dan must have a fairly short attention span, though, because it wasn’t forty five minutes before he was pestering Phil.

“Whatcha doing, Philly?” Phil lazily glanced up from his phone, a little surprised Dan was talking to him.

“Oh, you know, twitter, tumblr, the usual.”

Dan leaned forward over the lid of his laptop. “So you do have a twitter!”

“Yeah, I thought we established that.” Phil sat his phone down on the counter, confused by where the conversation was going. He hadn’t said he didn’t, he’d just… not wanted to give his username to Dan, that was all.

“Does this mean you’ll finally give me your handle?”

Phil wavered for a minute. What was worse, Dan looking him up on twitter, or Dan getting offended that Phil wouldn’t give him his username? Well, odds are he would find out eventually, so…

“Under one condition.”

“Deal.” Phil was taken aback at how quickly Dan responded.

“You haven’t heard the condition!”

Dan shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn’t matter. Deal. What is it?”

“You can’t look me up until you’ve left the coffee shop.”

“Ugh, _fine_ ,” Dan groaned, not looking pleased.

“I’ll know if you break your promise,” Phil threatened, wanting to make sure that Dan would keep his end of the bargain.

Dan looked unamused. “Yeah, yeah. Just tell me,” he whined.

“AmazingPhil.”

Dan instantly turned back to his laptop and tapped at his keyboard.

“Hey! Hey! I told you to look me up later!” Phil complained, darting down the bar, and lightly pushing on the lid of Dan’s laptop.

Dan laughed, pushing it back to its fully open condition. “I’m just writing it down, you _spoon_.”

“Oh.” Phil felt a little chagrined. “Right, sorry.”

“Although on second thought...” Dan closed his laptop lid, eyes gleaming excitedly. “I’ve sent all the emails I need, so I guess I’m done here. Darcy, are you about done with your picture?”

Phil grimaced. He should have known Dan was incapable of delaying gratification. Well, at least Phil wouldn’t be in the room when Dan found out.

Darcy held up her coloring book. She’d moved on from Eeyore to a picture of Tigger and Pooh.

“Perfect.” Dan helped her pack up her things and wrapped her back in his raincoat, making sure the laptop was tucked in well, too. It had mostly stopped raining, but Phil didn’t blame Dan for being careful.

“Well, Philip,” Dan said, turning back to Phil. “It’s been lovely, as always. I’ll be following — I mean, _seeing_ you soon.” Dan laughed at his own joke, gave Phil a quick two fingered goodbye salute, and gathered Darcy up in his arms.

“Tell Phil bye and that you’ll see him soon, Darcy.”

“Bye, Phwil!” Darcy waved her tiny, adorable hand in Phil’s direction. As disappointed as he always was when Dan had to leave, Phil wasn’t completely sorry that Dan was leaving now. Phil wasn’t sure if he could continue looking him in the eye after giving him his twitter handle.

Phil grabbed Dan and Darcy’s mugs to put in the dirty bin and spotted Dan’s shirt on the counter.

“Wait!” Phil almost yelled. “Your jumper.”

“Right!” Dan circled back to the counter, and Darcy grabbed his wet jumper. “Oh, that reminds me, did I leave my coat here last night?”

Phil looked around in confusion. Dan had left his jacket here? Then he remembered the black peacoat in the backroom that had been here when he’d arrived to work. “That’s your jacket in the back? I thought it looked familiar.”

“Black and depressing, who else could it belong to?” Dan said humorously.

Phil rolled his eyes at Dan on his way to the back room. When he brought it back out, Dan was still holding Darcy.

“Er,” Dan mumbled. He tried to extend one hand far enough from Darcy to take the coat, but it wasn’t enough to be able to hold it.

“Um, here.” Phil muttered back. He walked up behind Dan and draped the coat around his shoulders. His fingers lingered a beat longer than they strictly needed to, and he could have sworn he heard Dan’s breath hitch.

“You can bring my jumper back to me next time I see you, yeah?”

Dan turned around to face Phil. Suddenly, they were very close, even with Darcy between them.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll do that. See ya, Phil.”

“Buh bye Phiwl!” Darcy yelled again.

When the door shut behind them, Phil sank onto one of stools to collect himself, letting out a deep breath. Had this afternoon really happened? Phil wasn’t sure. Dan had a girlfriend, after all, so there was no way he’d been flirting — and besides, Phil didn’t even know if Dan was into guys. But it had felt like they were flirting. It had felt like there was something _there_.

Barely ten minutes later, Phil’s phone lit up with two notifications in quick succession.

“@danielhowell is now following you.”

“@danielhowell: @AmazingPhil hey there you snek”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the original summary i gave to [ auroraphilealis ](http://www.auroraphilealis.tumblr.com) for the last scene: Phil goes and gets it for him and Dan strips off his wet jumper and undershirt right there in the middle of the coffeeshop and phil is like yes daddy. 
> 
> let me know what you thought in the comments :) :) :) ;)


	6. 6 (6120 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: i’m fully aware that this is two days late and i’m SORRY. between the end of the semester and getting sick, i’ve failed to meet just about every deadline this week oops. but here's 6k?
> 
> note: this chapter is a bit more M rated than previous chapters. slight tw for homophobia and bi-erasure, and sexual activities.
> 
> thank you [ auroraphilealis ](http://www.auroraphilealis.tumblr.com) for her wonderful help as always, she always points out the best ways to make my story better

As soon as Dan was across the threshold of his apartment, he sat Darcy down and grabbed his computer from her little fingers.

"Uncle Dan, can we have a snack?" Darcy asked, carelessly dropping the rest of the stuff she was holding. The crayons spilled out of the box and rolled everywhere.

"Just a moment, okay Darce? Uncle Dan has something to do first." Darcy pouted, crossing her arms stubbornly in front of herself, and looked like she was about to complain. "I'll tell you what, you can pick out our snack after you pick up all the crayons."

Darcy looked down at the crayons, which were still rolling away. "Fine. But I want chocolate."

Dan shook his head in exasperation. "I swear, you are just a tiny version of your mother. Meet me in the kitchen when you're done."

Dan practically ran from Darcy once she was occupied. He slid into the kitchen, opening the computer before he even got to the counter. When he was finally perched at the breakfast bar, he opened his Twitter homepage, and completely ignored all of his notifications.

Impatiently, Dan punched in the handle that Phil had given him into the Twitter search bar. A...M...A...Z...I... — holy fuck.

The very first suggestion that showed up — from only the letters "amazi" — was AmazingPhil. And, apparently, AmazingPhil was verified and had five million followers.

_What in the fucking hell._

Dan skimmed his profile, trying to figure out why in the actual fuck Phil had five million followers. The tweets on Phil’s page weren’t particularly helpful. None of them gave any insight into why he had _several million_ followers. There was a link in his bio though; shakily, Dan clicked on it, opening it in a new tab. 

The page felt like it took ages to load. Dan’s internet was so fucking slow. Finally, he was staring at a YouTube page.

A Youtube page for AmazingPhil.

A Youtube page for AmazingPhil that had over four million subscribers.

Dan didn’t waste any time opening the first video on the page in another tab. Immediately, he was greeted by Phil's typical one-handed wave and a bright "Hey guys!" As interested as Dan was in the video, he switched back to Phil’s twitter, hoping to figure out what the heck was happening. The video continued to play in the background. Phil was talking about how weird of a kid he apparently was (no surprise there, Dan found him to be an endearingly weird adult, too).

Suddenly, Dan understood why Phil was so weird about giving Dan his username. Knowing that he didn’t have much time left to explore Phil’s apparently celebrity life, Dan pressed the follow button and, just to make him suffer a little more, Dan clicked to tweet him.

 _@danielhowell:_ @AmazingPhil hey there you snek

Just as Dan pressed _send_ , Darcy came running into the kitchen. Proudly, she threw all of the crayons she had picked up onto the counter, completely defeating her efforts as they rolled across the breakfast bar and clanked to the floor.

"Uncle Dan, I cleannnnned. Can we please have chocolate now?"

"Yes, Darcy, just one second." Dan quickly turned on mobile notifications for Phil before shutting his computer. _He was curious, sue him._ He didn’t have _time_ to do a full stalk now. But he would later.

He shoved his phone into his back pocket and swooped down to pick up Darcy. He swung her up onto the counter, setting her next to the sink. Darcy let out a high pitched giggle at the sudden swooping motion. Her hands were slightly tinted a rainbow of colors from the crayons. He turned the water on, letting it get warm.

"Wash your hands, then you can have chocolate." 

Darcy leaned over the sink to wash her hands, inadvertently soaking her pants and the sleeves of her sweater. _After all of the effort he'd made to keep her dry, too._

"I think that's enough of that." Dan laughed and pulled her wet hands away from the tap. Before she could make too much more of a mess, Dan turned off the water. He opened the cabinet by Darcy, bringing a hand to her waist to steady her as she clambered up to stand on the counter. She peered into the cabinet seriously, evaluating the food options Dan had. Her tiny hand reached out to grasp a box of chocolate biscuits. Proudly, she turned around to show Dan her selection.

"Can we have milk with the biscuits too?"

"That's the only way to have biscuits!" Dan pulled Darcy back into a seated position before he walked to the fridge. He pulled the milk out, only to find that there was hardly any left — right, he was supposed to buy new milk and got distracted. _Oh well, too late now._

He poured the small amount of remaining milk into a glass for Darcy and tucked the biscuits under his arm. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist when he pulled her off the counter. He carried her into the lounge, setting her down on the couch and dropping the biscuits into her lap.

“Hold on just a second, Darce. I want to get you a new shirt since you got yourself all wet.”

Dan ducked back to his room, grabbing one of his spare t-shirts. When he got back to the living room, Darcy already had the box of biscuits opened and was munching happily on one. Dan rolled his eyes, not at all surprised she’d started on them before he got back. He grabbed the biscuit and the box from her hand, balancing them precariously on the arm of the couch.

“Can you stand up for me? I brought you something dry to put on.” Obediently, Darcy stood up on the couch and lifted her hands above her head, letting Dan pull off her damp sweater. He tugged his t-shirt on her and helped her pull off her sopping leggings. “Is that better?”

Darcy nodded her head enthusiastically, jumping back down into her seated position. She looked precious in his shirt. The hem of it fell passed her knees and the sleeves, which reached his mid-bicep, hung passed her elbows. Dan loved having Darcy in his life and was eternally grateful that Louise allowed him to be as big of a part of her life as he was. Someday, way down the line when his life had settled down some, Dan desperately wanted a kid (or two or three) of his own. But for now, he showered all of his attention on Darcy.

"What do you want me to put on the tv?"

"The Tigger Movie!" 

Dan bit back a groan. He'd spent all of Darcy's life trying to get her into Winnie the Pooh and for some reason she's picked _the worst Pooh movie_ to be her favorite. Honestly, he was so fucking sick of this shitty movie, but he put it on the tv anyway. He deserved a fucking award for Uncle of the Year for how many times he'd watched this bastardization of Winnie the Pooh.

Dan fiddled with his phone, his eyes flickering back and forth between his dark screen and Darcy. Inadvertently, she knocked the box of biscuits over and a few tumbled out onto the floor. With better reflexes than he realized he had, Dan reached over and caught the glass of milk just as Darcy was jumping down to pick up the fallen snacks. When she settled back on the couch, Dan repositioned the milk between her legs and poured a few of the biscuits onto the couch for easy access. _Screw the crumbs._ It was better than her dropping them all over the floor again and potentially knocking the milk over as well, especially as he was fully planning on tuning out of the movie as soon as he could.

Dan waited until Darcy's attention was fully consumed by Tigger's annoying bouncing around the screen before he pulled his phone back out. Surprisingly, there was a notification from Twitter — apparently Phil had already tweeted him back.

Dan swiped on the notification, opening the app. 

_@AmazingPhil:_ @danielhowell Hiss Hiss [snake emoji]

Dan looked at the time stamp on Phil's tweet. It was dated a mere two minutes after Dan had originally sent his. _Interesting._

Dan switched over to the YouTube app, finally taking a moment to properly look at Phil's channel. According to his _about_ page, he had created his channel on February of 2006. His description said that he "shares his strange life with people on the internet" — from everything Dan had learned about Phil so far, he definitely did have a strange life. He was looking forward to getting to hear more about it while watching the... holy shit, _250 videos_ Phil had. 

Dan tapped back to the Twitter app in order to respond to Phil's tweet. 

_@danielhowell:_ @AmazingPhil looks like that's my evenings plans sorted then

Dan glanced over at Darcy. She was still munching on the biscuits. The milk had turned into almost sludge from all the biscuit crumbs that were dissolving in the glass. He was going to have to take that away from her soon. When he looked back at his phone, Phil had already tweeted him back.

 _@AmazingPhil:_ @danielhowell Oh no! Please don't go too far back [gif]

Attached to the tweet was a gif of a bunny hiding its face in his paws.

_Jesus, this guy is too precious._

Just to be a dick, Dan scrolled all the way back to the beginning of Phil's channel and copied the link to his first video — "Phil's Video Blog - 27th March 2006".

 _@danielhowell:_ @AmazingPhil idk this seems like a pretty good starting point https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0dsyXzmHFM

Dan surreptitiously grabbed his headphones and tucked his left earbud — the one hidden from Darcy’s view — in his ear. He clicked play on the video and Phil’s voice… shit, it sounded so Northern. _Completely adorable, though_.

How old was Phil here? Dan was suddenly desperate to know. How _cute_ was this?

When the video finished — it was only just over two minutes long — Dan clicked back to Twitter. He briefly considered replying to Phil’s tweet again, but decided it might be better to just slide into his DMs.

 _Daniel Howell:_ wow you were a baby when you started this how adorable

Phil’s response was instantaneous.

 _Phil Lester:_ Shut up, I know for a fact that you have plenty of embarrassing stuff on the internet from when you were younger, let me be.

 _Daniel Howell:_ touche lester. you have a fuckton of videos though, so much for my productivity i guess

 _Phil Lester:_ What happened to Darcy? Go pay attention to her.

 _Daniel Howell:_ she’s watching the fucking tigger movie and eating biscuits, she hasn’t even noticed i stopped paying attention to her

 _Phil Lester:_ What? That’s the worst Pooh movie! 

_Daniel Howell:_ THANK YOU her and louise don’t agree with me smh 

_Phil Lester:_ Wow, how shameful. Maybe you should try something different? Totoro?

 _Daniel Howell:_ trust me, i’ve tried. she only likes totoro when she is on the verge of falling asleep idk why

 _Phil Lester:_ That’s kind of cute though. I used to watch My Neighbor Totoro when I was going to sleep a lot (maybe I still do shhh)

 _Daniel Howell:_ that’s actually adorable (i do too)

 _Daniel Howell:_ tbh i wasn’t sure if you’d even see my tweet, much less respond so fast

 _Phil Lester:_ This is embarrassing. I may have you on notifications. Oops.

 _Daniel Howell:_ philip lester are you a secret fanboy

 _Phil Lester:_ Friends are allowed to have notifications on for their friends! It’s not that creepy.

 _Daniel Howell:_ it’s not THAT creepy, sure. 

After Dan hit send, he panicked that maybe his last message hadn’t come out sarcastic, just harsh. Quickly, he followed it up with another message.

 _Daniel Howell:_ ;) 

Phil’s next message came almost at the same time that Dan’s second message sent.

 _Phil Lester:_ Hey, I only put on notifications once I started seeing you almost everyday.

Dan sent Phil a smiley face and switched back to YouTube. He tapped on the next video — he figured he might as well watch in order if he was going to binge all of the videos anyway.

He made it through a few short videos before he got another DM from phil.

 _Phil Lester:_ Oh my gosh, our Twitter mentions are a mess.

 _Daniel Howell:_ how so?

 _Phil Lester:_ Everyone wants to know how we know each other lol

 _Daniel Howell:_ hmm i didn’t think of that

Dan bit his thumbnail in thought.

 _Daniel Howell:_ they’re your fans too, so you can obvi do whatever you want but i’d rather the whole world didn’t start coming to beans and grind

 _Phil Lester:_ No, me either. They know I’ve started doing some work with the BBC, I’m sure if I say I met you through work they’d all just assume it was that.

 _Daniel Howell:_ you do stuff with the bbc? who the heck are you phil?? 

_Daniel Howell:_ that’s fine btw we can just be vague

 _Phil Lester:_ Lol yeah, I guess we have plenty to talk about huh? Come by the coffee shop soon?

 _Daniel Howell:_ obviously x

Dan glanced at the clock. It was four o’clock in the morning and apparently he’d been on YouTube nonstop since Louise had come to get Darcy sometime before dinner. Somehow, he was still only in 2014. The man had over 250 youtube videos, 120 of which were just from the past four years. According to Dan’s calculations, that meant he had roughly… another ten hours of AmazingPhil videos to watch?

 _Well shit._ How was he supposed to be productive tomorrow, now?

After carefully (drowsily) considering his options, Dan made the best decision his curious, tired brain could make at this hour: he turned autoplay off, but kept clicking on video after video. He figured that if he fell asleep during a video, at least this way he wouldn’t accidentally sleep through two dozen videos. 

Somewhere around five in the morning, Dan clicked on the first AmazingPhil video of 2015 and fell asleep to Phil’s quirky, eccentric storytelling. He had fully intended to get a full night’s sleep so he could wake up bright and early and head to the studio in hopes of finding inspiration, but… here he was now. 

Despite being up until dawn watching AmazingPhil videos, Dan managed to wake up when his ten o’clock alarm went off. Out of habit, Dan pulled open Twitter and scrolled through his mentions — Phil was right, they were a mess. Almost every single tweet was screaming about the fact that he’d tweeted at Phil. A substantial number of the tweets were begging for the story of how they had met. AmazingPhil was tagged in almost all of the tweets, too. _Who knew they had such overlapping audiences?_

As he was scrolling, he realized that Phil had responded to a few of the messages. Eager not to miss anything, Dan switched to Phils Tweets and Replies page to see all of his responses. 

_@AmazingJenniffffer:_ @AmazingPhil tell us something we don’t know about @danielhowell

 _@AmazingPhil:_ @AmazingJenniffffer His standard coffee order is a triple espresso with one sugar and he’s a complete grump until he’s finished half of it.

Dan huffed in annoyance. He wasn’t a _complete_ grump. He just… wasn’t very cheerful.

 _@danielhowell:_ @AmazingPhil @AmazingJenniffffer i resent that. i’m a delight thank you very much.

Phil’s response came quicker than Dan was anticipating.

 _@AmazingPhil:_ @danielhowell You haven’t had coffee yet this morning have you?

Dan’s eyes narrowed at the accusation. Stubbornly, he threw off the duvet so he could get up. He wasn’t about to let Phil have the last word here.

Jesus, it was bloody freezing in his flat. 

Hugging his arms around himself, Dan looked around his floor, searching for something warm and relatively clean to put on. His eyes fell on Phil’s _pugs not drugs_ jumper. Before he could overthink it, he pulled the jumper over his head. It was warm and comfortable, okay? It had nothing to do with the fact that it was Phil’s.

Dan could practically hear his internal devil laughing at the thin excuse, but the angel in his mind shoved the thought out of his head. That thought was far too much to process before coffee.

He stumbled into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee through half-lidded eyes. He spent a bit longer than normal picking out a mug while the coffee pot brewed, knowing he was about to tweet a picture of it. Eventually, he settled on a sloppily painted polka dot one his sister had made him — it would make her happy if she happened to see the tweet.

When the coffee was (finally) done, he filled the cup all the way to the brim and dumped in a small spoonful of sugar. While he waited for it to cool, he moved the coffee to the breakfast bar and carefully angled his camera so that the mug and his guitar on the kitchen table were both in shot.

 _@danielhowell:_ @AmazingPhil excuse you not only do i have coffee but i’m being productive [picture]

Dan tried to shove his phone into his pocket, only to remember that he was just wearing pants. Somewhat annoyingly, Phil’s jumper didn’t have a pocket either. Precariously, Dan tucked his phone under his arm, grabbed his phone and his guitar, and meandered into the music room. By the time he had set the guitar down next to the piano, his phone had chimed with another Twitter notification.

 _@AmazingPhil:_ @danielhowell You’re not fooling anyone, that coffee is completely full 

There was also a DM from Phil.

 _Phil Lester:_ I thought maybe you’d come to b &g this morning.

 _Daniel Howell:_ sorry louise might actually have my head if i don’t do something productive today

 _Phil Lester:_ :( Rude, what are you supposed to be doing today?

 _Daniel Howell:_ working on writing the piano piece for a new song and louise threatened that if i didn’t have a draft of it by the end of the week then she was going to hire a composer because apparently i ‘take too long’

 _Phil Lester:_ Doesn’t she understand that art takes time?? (do I sound like a total fanboy if I ask for a preview?)

 _Daniel Howell:_ smh apparently not (yes but i watched 160 of your videos last night so i don’t think i can judge. i’ll send you something when i have something)

Without waiting for Phil to respond, Dan sat his phone face down on the top of the piano. He knew if he kept responding to Phil, he’d end up just talking to him all day and not getting any work done and, at that rate, he might as well have just gone down to Beans and Grind.

Dan spent the next hour and a half switching back and forth from playing his guitar, where he knew how to play the song, to the piano, where he was trying to arrange an accompanying piece. The top of the piano was littered with messy, half-crossed-out attempts at new sheet music. 

After another hour of furiously trying to translate the song to the piano, Dan finally had a working draft of nearly half of the song written. Needing a break from flat out writing to just playing, Dan decided this was as good a time as any to film Phil a sneak peak of his new song. Awkwardly, Dan gripped his phone in his mouth and hit the record button, doing his best to record his hands on his piano. Unfortunately, the phone dropped almost instantly, landing face up so Dan had to awkwardly give Phil a terrible look at his face. 

He watched the video back. There was just a quick clip of a piano, his hands, and a blur of his torso. It was kind of hilarious actually. He knew his followers would find it just as funny as he did.

 _@danielhowell:_ i was trying to film an exclusive sneak preview for @AmazingPhil but ended up with this gem instead

Without waiting to see his followers reactions, Dan returned his phone to his mouth and took another attempt at the video. This time, he managed to film the forty-five second portion of the song he’d composed. 

He watched the video back. It was a bit shaky, both in filming and in… well, the quality of the song. Obviously, there weren’t lyrics or guitar or drums, but the piano part was complex enough that it sounded nice on its own. Still, he’d only just finished writing it, so his finger hit the wrong keys a few times and there were a couple of instances where his hands stilled for a split second, trying to remember what came next. Briefly, Dan considered refilming it, but he knew if he did it again, he’d end up filming fifteen drafts and wimp out of sending it.

Instead, he dropped it into his DM conversation with Phil, and sent it without a caption.

Weirdly, he was a bit nervous about Phil’s reaction to his music. So far, only Louise and his producer had heard the song — and that was just the guitar and vocal portion. Literally no one had heard any of the piano part yet. For all he knew, it was shit.

Instead of dealing with his nerves, however, he dropped his phone back on top of the piano and wandered back to the kitchen. He’d realized he’d only had coffee today and had completely forgotten about food. 

In the kitchen, he grabbed a packet of crisps and a ribena and shuffled back to the music room. By the time he got back, Phil had already responded to his DM.

 _Phil Lester:_ What the heck? You’re so talented. Did you just write that now?

 _Daniel Howell:_ i mean technically i adapted it from the guitar, so it wasn’t like i was starting from the beginning or anything

 _Phil Lester:_ Don’t be mean to yourself! The guitar and piano are very different instruments.

 _Daniel Howell:_ and i’ve been playing them both since i was five, no excuses

He tapped back to his general notifications to see that his mentions were a wreck again. So far, there were several dozen tweets informing him that Phil had the _exact same jumper_. He had kind of forgotten that he was wearing Phil’s _pugs not drugs_ jumper, to be honest. _Well fuck._

Dan groaned to himself. He hoped no one thought too much about the outfit choice. Particularly Phil. 

A notification popped up at the top of his screen.

 _@AmazingPhil:_ @danielhowell nice jumper

 _Or not, then._ Dan rolled his eyes. Of course Phil had noticed. Even if he had overlooked the fact that Dan was wearing his jumper in the three second video, enough fans had pointed out that he had the same jumper as Phil that he was bound to see it. 

He half expected Phil to DM him about it too, but he didn’t. Dan briefly considered DM’ing Phil himself, somehow trying to justify his clothing choice, but he figured there was no coming back from it now. Best to just move on, really.

Dan dropped his phone back onto the hood of the piano and re-concentrated his efforts onto composing the new version of his song. 

Dan wasn’t sure how long he had lost himself in the music, but he was eventually jolted back to the present by the chime of the lift door. 

The high pitched _ding_ of the lift opening drew Dan out of his trance. The flat was silent for a moment, but the chime was quickly followed by a resounding _smash_ and the _smash_ was followed by a sharp _clang_. Dan dropped the pen from his mouth and dashed into the living room to see what the fuck was happening in his apartment. 

Much to his surprise, he found Isabella standing in the middle of his kitchen. Around her, several of his pots and pans were spread across the kitchen floor, almost as if she was _trying_ to make as much noise as possible.

“What the _fuck_ , Izzy?” Dan asked, frozen in the kitchen entryway. 

Isabella didn’t acknowledge Dan’s presence. She opened his next cabinet and grabbed a few more pots, unceremoniously chucking them to the floor. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Dan rushed over to Isabella, pulling her hands from the cabinet and holding them in front of him. “Stop it. What the fuck are you doing, Isabella?”

Isabella ripped her hands out of his grasp and reached for his next cabinet. She grabbed the nearest cookware and smashed it harshly to the floor. Just in time, Dan leaped back. The heavy metal bowl landed just centimeters from his bare foot.

“Jesus, Isabella. Will you stop? What the fuck is wrong?”

As Isabella opened up yet another cabinet, she realized that she was out of pots and pans she could crash to the floor. So instead, she turned and started grabbing what she could see in the cupboard. 

His beautiful mug collection. 

“Izzy. Izzy, Izzy, Izzy, Izzy. Stop, what are you _doing_?” 

Isabella sent him a harsh, angry look. “You tell me. What the fuck do you think _YOU’RE_ doing?”

Isabella grabbed another one of his gorgeous black mugs and smashed it to the floor. 

“What the fuck? No, Izzy _stop_! I like my mugs.”

Isabella turned and stared him dead in the eye, grabbing the next mug and crashing it against the hard tile floor. Mug after mug, Isabella threw his prized possessions to the ground. Quickly, Dan found his kitchen floor becoming filled with little bits of Totoro, legos, and black ceramic.

“Fucking _christ,_ leave me _something_ to drink coffee in, will you?” Isabella snatched another mug off of his shelf and threw it to the floor with all her might. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?”

“Who is he?” Isabella grabbed another mug — ironically, his favorite mug, which was bright pink, and smashed it to the floor. 

_Fuck,_ he loved that mug. His grandma had gotten it for him years ago. It was her way of silently supporting his rebellion against gender roles when he had first started wearing nail polish and earrings sometimes. And now it was broken. Smashed into four big chunks.

Dan bent forward and scooped the pieces of the mug off the floor, cradling them into his chest. 

“Who is who?” asked Dan, completely lost, as he set the broken shards of glass gently on his breakfast bar — far out of Isabella’s reach.

“You know who I’m talking about. That boy from twitter!” Isabella held another mug in her hands threateningly.

“...that boy from twitter?” Dan carefully hopped through the glass, taking care to avoid stepping on the large shards of his favorite mugs that littered his kitchen floor. Naturally, she didn’t have to worry about the glass, she didn’t have to worry about the mugs he so desperately loved cutting up her feet. She was wearing _nine hundred pound shoes_ that were surely worth more emotionally than the mugs his family and friends had slowly given him over the years.

“What are you on about?”

“You know, that one you’ve been tweeting all last night! And today! So fucking _flirty_.” Carelessly, she dropped the mug she was holding by her feet. 

“You mean Phil?” Dan glanced down at the shards of glass at his feet, honing in on the hand painted bits of broken glass.

“Phil? _That’s_ Phil? Like coffee shop Phil?”

“Yes?” Dan stuttered. “Why? What the hell has gotten into you?”

“That guy you’ve been tweeting with is the coffee shop guy, the one you haven’t been able to shut up about for _ages_!? Nice jumper, by the way. I’ve never seen it before. But it sure sounds like all of Phil’s _precious little fans_ have. It’s his, isn’t it?”

“What is your point, Isabella?” Dan asked through gritted teeth. He’d been trying, really trying, to stay calm. His mother had always taught him that getting loud and angry back didn’t solve problems and that was what he had been trying to do so far — solve whatever this problem was. But bringing Phil into it… that angered Dan more than almost anything else so far. More than his Totoro mug, more than the Lego mug, more than the near miss of the heavy metal bowl. 

“You’ve been, like, spending so much damn time at that coffee shop recently. I was concerned it was because of a girl or something, but, _of course,_ I forgot you were _gay_.” Isabella’s words came out sharp, dripping with poison. 

Dan flinched back. In the back of his mind, he could hear the callous, ruthless taunts of his school bullies calling him _gay, homo, fag_ … He tried to shut out the memories, but her tone, her tone mirrored those kids’ tones so closely that it was hard. He’d been comfortable, proud even, of his sexuality for _years_ , but one word, one tone, one attempt from someone he _loved_ to use a word he was proudof as an _insult_ and… suddenly he was right back in his terrified, raging adolescent mindset.

When he’d told Isabella that he was open — enthusiastic even — to dating more than one gender, she had been cold, rude even. But that didn’t even _compare_ to her throwing and shattering every kitchen item he owned onto the floor because of — well, _this_.

“How many fucking times do we have to have this conversation?” Dan closed in on Isabella, backing her into the corner of the counter. “I told you, I’m not gay. I like girls just as much as I like guys, or anyone else for that matter.”

Isabella scoffed at him. “Right, tell that to your new friend, _Phil_. With the way you’ve been acting recently, I just assumed that you’d let the full freak-gay flag fly.”

“One,” Dan angrily grasped the counter, right against Isabella’s hip, “I never said I was into Phil. Two,” Dan’s other hand landed on the counter on Isabella’s other side, effectively trapping her against the counter. “Even if I was, I wouldn’t be gay. Just in case you forgot, _Izzy_ , there’s this thing called _bisexuality._ ”

Isabella tilted her head sideways, looking back at Dan through heavily-lidded eyes. “I’m not sure I believe you, Danny. You’re going to have to prove to me that you still like _vagina_.”

Dan felt something _snap_ within him. Isabella’s constant jabs at him, her constant disbelief that he could find multiple genders equally attractive, her inability to realize that despite his attraction to _anyone else_ , he was actively _choosing_ to be in _this_ relationship… it all drove Dan to a point of anger that he hadn’t ever felt before in his life. 

Suddenly, he wasn’t just backing Isabella against the counter, he was lifting her up by her upper thighs and pressing her against the marble countertop. His mouth instinctively found her neck, harshly biting more than kissing. In response, her leg wound its way around his waist, forcing him in close.

He shoved her harder against the counter, lifting her up further so she could sit, forcefully spreading her legs apart so he could stand between them.

Dan didn’t hesitate, working his way aggressively down Isabella’s neck, sucking and biting until he reached the crest of her bulging breast. His tongue flicked over it, dipping down into her bra and across her nipple. He’d never felt so angry before. All he wanted was to make her finally shut up, to make her finally stop making jokes about his love of dick.

Never once had he asked for the opportunity to seek cock, to take cock, to _suck_ cock, yet here she was, angry about the fact that he could even consider _wanting_ cock. 

“If I were only into _dicks_ ,” Dan muttered, squeezing her other breast in his hand roughly, “would I love your boobs as much as I do?” 

Dan roughly pulled her shirt and bra down with his teeth, giving himself more access to her chest. His teeth scraped sharply against her soft skin, leaving bright red marks behind. In response, Isabella wrapped her legs tightly around him, pulling him in tightly.

“Fuck, Dan…” Isabella hissed. “Like, I said… prove to me you aren’t into _him_.”

Dan growled, reaching his hand under Isabella’s thighs, sliding up until his hands were tightly squeezing her ass, and forcefully pulled her forward. Her legs instinctually locked around his waist and he effortlessly started walking her back towards his bedroom. Without warning, she started biting at his earlobe. Hard.

“Jesus, fuck. Isabella…” Dan trailed off, gasping as arousal shot through him. Isabella’s teeth moved lower, sinking into his shoulder so sharply that they nearly drew blood. Without warning, Dan shoved her against the hallway wall.

“Fucking hell Isabella…” He bit and sucked his way down her neck, latching on to her exposed breast again, groaning at the feel of her under him. He hadn’t expected this to be quite as much of a turn on as it was. His arms shook as he held her, biting at her skin, thinking about how much he just wanted to fuck her, _show_ her how much he wanted her. He was just worried he was being too rough. 

“Is this okay?” he gasped out.

Isabella responded first with a high pitched whimper. Dan hesitated for a moment, pulling back, searching her face for consent. “Yes —” she finally whimpered, bringing Dan’s attention back to her body. “Don’t stop.”

Dan growled, pushing her harder against the wall, holding her up with just his lower body. _Good_ , he thought, because he didn’t want to stop. His hands tugged at her lacy top, tearing through the delicate fabric. 

“Danny!” Isabella yelled, “That was expensive!”

“Does it look like I give a fuck?” Dan didn’t even bother meeting Isabella’s gaze.

He reached behind her, unsnapping her bra. Her tight skirt had ridden up from their position, granting Dan open access to her body. His left hand wound its way out from under her knee to her inner thigh, while his other hand landed on her lower back, roughly pulling her further against him, until his hard cock was pressing against her. His nails scratched sharply against her back, surely leaving deep red marks above her ass. 

In turn, Isabella’s hands wound their way down Dan’s side and underneath Phil’s jumper. She shoved Dan backward, nearly causing him to lose his grip on her, and yanked the jumper over his head. The moment his shirt was off, Isabella’s hands returned to his shoulder, her nails raking down his back. 

“I don’t care if you’re _gay_ for coffee house boy, Danny, remember that you are _mine._ ” Isabella punctuated her sentence with a sharp bite to Dan’s neck.

 _Fuck._ She knew. She _knew_ his neck was an off-limits zone. And yet, she still chose to _bite_ at it. 

_Fuck it_. Dan retaliated. Without mercy, his mouth attacked her collarbone, sucking a deep, dark purple mark against her pale, white skin. When he pulled back, he could see the marks of his teeth glowing red, encompassing a dark purple patch. _Not good enough_. Dan moved to the other side, latching his lips on the opposite side of Isabella’s neck and biting down. 

Isabella matched him bite for bite, scratch for scratch. For every mark he left on Isabella, she left one on him. His hand had just worked its way fully up her skirt, grasping her hip so hard that it was bound to bruise, when Isabella bit his ear harshly, mumbling, “Fuck me, Danny, prove to me that you like me most.”

Defiantly, Dan ripped her away from the wall and carried her toward the bedroom. The whole way, her hands kept scraping down his back, her mouth kept sucking at his neck. In turn, Dan pulled at her hair and squeezed at her ass so tightly that he was sure it would bruise. 

When they finally reached the bedroom, Dan threw Isabella mercilessly onto the bed, arms shaking with the effort of holding her up for so goddamn long. His hands immediately went to pull down her skirt as her hands reached for the drawstring of his pajama pants. Without ceremony, his pants and her skirt fell to the floor. The moment his cock jumped up, Dan was ready, and he pushed into her, roughly showing her just _how_ much he liked her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ducks and hides behind the metal bowl isabella threw at dan* please don't hate me


	7. 7 (8458)

Phil ran around his apartment, collecting the things he’d planned to show in his liveshow. He always found that liveshows went more smoothly (and avoided too many personal questions) when he had some concrete, pre-planned topics to talk about — especially when there were hot topics his fans knew about that he was trying to avoid.

Like this week.

It had only been four days since Dan had first tweeted at him and, well, those four days had been packed full with _at least_ a few dozen tweets exchanged between them. If his viewers reactions on twitter were anything to go by… well, it was sure to be a hot topic tonight.

Phil’d spent a lot of the day thinking about how he wanted to spin his interactions with Dan. In fact, he’d genuinely considered canceling his liveshow just to avoid having to get into it. They’d both agreed that giving the proper truth — that Phil worked at a coffee shop Dan frequented — was out of the question. They valued their privacy far too much to disclose that information. But obviously, he had to say something.

Being as vague as possible seemed like the best option: they’d met through his work (not a lie), and had seen each other a few times because of it. Phil didn’t need to divulge the nature of their relationship — and honestly, he barely knew how he’d describe it anyway. They were more than just a barista and a customer for sure. Dan had flat out said several times that he considered Phil a friend, and Phil thought of Dan as one, too. But sometimes… well, sometimes their interactions didn’t feel like friendship. Or at least not any friendship Phil had ever had before.

It felt more… flirty.

Which was insane. For a multitude of reasons. Not the least of which being that Dan had a _girl_ friend, with no visible history of dating, well, _not_ girls. Against his better judgment, Phil had done a bit of digging on Dan. Which he knew, he _knew_ he shouldn’t have done.

For one, they were friends and it just felt somehow _creepier_ to internet stalk someone he was actually fairly close with. And second, he knew how it felt to have more information about himself on the internet than he was aware of, and imagined Dan was just as uncomfortable with it as he was. Plus, it felt _wrong_ to learn things about his friend that Dan hadn’t explicitly _chosen_ to tell him.

Regardless, Phil had looked him up. Along the way, he’d learned that Dan had had some mental health issues a few years back that were arguably still present, depending on the source. He’d learned that with the exception of Isabella, Dan had never been in a relationship — or at least not one that he’d made public. Phil learned that Dan was incredibly private about his family life, to the extent that almost nobody even knew the names of his immediate family.

If it had been just a normal friendship, Phil would have needed to wait until Dan decided to — if at all — tell him about things. But this friendship _was_ different. They were both very public figures and now he was sitting on all of this knowledge and he wasn’t sure if he should hide the fact that he had it or not.

His only condolence was that Dan had apparently binge watched a bunch of his videos, which meant he undoubtedly knew a lot more about Phil than he’d elected to share so far as well. Hell, he’d finally just confessed that he was kind of famous too (if giving Dan the necessary information to find out on his own could even be considered _confessing_ , that is).

By now, Dan was sure to know that Phil had _never_ had public relationships, with the exception of some dubious, long deleted evidence from his early, early days of YouTube. Dan also probably knew that Phil was incredibly close with his family, to the point of possibly _oversharing_ about them in his public life. Dan had also likely caught on to the fact that his AmazingPhil persona was a bit different, a bit more innocent and bubbly than his day-to-day personality. Oh well. That was what Phil had signed up for when he’d started broadcasting his life all over the internet. And in some ways, Dan had signed up for the same gig.

Once Phil had gathered his… _props_ , for the show, he set himself up on his sofa, and pulled up YouNow. While the streaming site loaded, Phil drafted a tweet so that all he had to do was hit _post_ once he was live.

 _@AmazingPhil_ : Lions and plants and socks, oh my! Come hang out with me on YouNow and help me decide if I should keep the stuff I bought on Amazon this week [link]

When Phil saw the green icon indicating he was live, he sent the tweet and waved hello to his audience. He was always astounded at how many people were there at the very beginning of his shows, as if they’d just been lurking on his YouNow, waiting for him. Phil didn’t know if it was flattering or creepy

“Hi guys! How is everyone doing today?”

As he read out some of the funnier responses, he watched the number of viewers steadily climb. “Sarah says she’s watching me instead of doing her maths homework. Bad Sarah! Do your homework. Adam says he’s trying to make a cake he saw on the Great British Bake off. Good luck Adam, I’m not a very good baker but I believe in you.”

As the stream continued, Phil reacted to another handful of comments in order to give people time to arrive. After a few minutes, he glanced at the viewer count to see if he was near his typical audience size yet.

Seventeen thousand. That was a full seven thousand more than usually showed up for his shows.

Phil had a hunch that it had to due with his recent twitter activity. It was probably best to start his pre-planned activity before everyone started nagging him to talk about it.

“Laura wants to know how my week’s been. Pretty good so far, nothing to complain about,” Phil said, scanning the chat for anything else innocent he could answer before switching tactics completely.

“Okay guys, are you ready to help me decide if I should keep the stuff I bought on Amazon? Kelsey asks why I bought stuff if I’m not sure if I want it. Well, Kelsey, it was really late at night, I was bored, and it all seemed like a good idea at the time. Haven’t you ever heard of impulse shopping? It’s a real problem. See this is what happens when you live alone. You don't have anyone to tell you if the stuff you’re buying is cool or not. ‘Get a roommate’ someone said — sorry I missed your name. I only have a one bedroom flat, it’s definitely not big enough to share with —”

Phil was interrupted by a high pitched _diiiing_ from his phone. _Oops._

“Sorry, guys, I forgot to turn my phone on silent.” Phil embarrassedly grabbed his phone and toggled it to silent without looking at the screen. “Everyone’s asking who it is. I don’t know, I didn’t check. Let me have a look.” Curious himself now, Phil flipped his phone over.

_@danielhowell liked your tweet._

Not so subtly, Phil threw his phone to the other end of the couch as if it were on fire.

 _Holy shit._ If Dan liked his tweet about his liveshow did that mean…? No. No way. Dan was a busy _celebrity_. Surely he had better things to do on a Wednesday evening than watch Phil’s liveshow.

Phil tried his best to arrange his features into a more neutral expression before turning back to the camera. Naturally, the chat was flooded with people asking why he looked so surprised and who the message had been from.

“Just a twitter notification,” Phil said, aiming for nonchalant. Hoping to brush off the topic, he grabbed his first item off the table. “Okay, so first Amazon purchase is…” Phil attempted a drumroll noise “...socks!”

Phil held the pack of socks up to the webcam, flipping through the different pairs as he described them. “See, they are all plant themed. There’s cacti, and succulents, and bamboo. What do we think, do we like them?”

Not that he was surprised, but virtually no one in the chat seemed to care about his dubious Amazon purchases. Almost every single question was directly related to his interactions with Dan, both on Twitter and in real life. Until now, he hadn’t realized how much their fanbases overlapped.

This might be a harder topic to avoid than he’d initially thought.

Phil filtered through the Dan-related comments until he found a few people reacting to the socks and focused on those. “Amanda says she thinks they’re cute and Ashley bets that they’ll mix and match well. I agree, Ashley. Great. I’ll keep the socks.”

Phil sat the socks down on the table and picked up the next item, showing it to his audience and making another hopefully witty comment. As Phil struggled to push through the mass of comments related to Dan, he went through his next few purchases a bit slower than strictly necessary. He figured the more time he spent on this, the less free time he would have to talk about unplanned topics — namely Dan — at the end.

The charizard plushie and the grow-your-own-terrarium kit were his to keep, but everyone agreed that the Buffy figurine was more demonic than cute and needed to go back. From what Phil could tell, the comments had been split in regards to the aesthetic hat he’d picked out, and he chucked it away with a, “Maa _aaaaybe_.”

A quick glimpse at the clock told Phil that he’d been live for a little over half an hour already.

“This last one I’m a little more unsure about, guys.” Phil held up the jumper, trying to center it so that the lion on the front was in focus. His uncertainty was mostly for his viewers benefit. Phil was pretty damn sure how he felt about the jumper — it was bloody hideous. The lion design had looked adorable online, but then again that had been a small picture, it had been one in the morning, and he’d had a few mixed drinks by then. In reality, though, the lion was incredibly disproportionate and the quality was something he’d expect from a cheap, knockoff vendor on the street.

Nonetheless, Phil peeked around the jumper to read people’s comments. Those who were engaging in the Amazon conversation were all agreeing with him. “Sounds like most of you don’t like this one as much. I didn’t think so either. I love lions a lot, but this one isn’t very cute is he? Okay, back to Amazon that goes, then.”

Phil made a show of dropping the jumper and throwing it out of sight. He scanned the chat, looking for more reactions. His eyes landed on the word jumper and he read the comment out loud without processing it first.

“Max says to talk about Dan having the same pug jumper that you own.” _Oh crap._ That’s not what he’d anticipated when he’d seen the word jumper. “I, uh, yeah.” Phil fumbled for a second before pulling himself together and smiling brightly. “Funny, right? Definitely not his usual style. Honestly, when I lent it to him, I wasn’t sure he’d even want to wear it in the moment, much less at his own house when he had other options.”

Belatedly, Phil realized his mistake. He’d just confirmed that Dan didn’t just _happen to own_ the same jumper as him, Dan had Phil’s _actual_ jumper. Phil’s eyes tried to follow the chat, but it was moving too fast to comprehend. The only thing he could make out was _Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan._

_Well, I guess that topic is officially being discussed._

With a deep breath, Phil finally addressed the questions everyone had been tweeting at him, and he assumed were flooding the chat. “Everyone’s curious how I know Dan — Dan Howell, that is, in case anyone hasn’t been looking at my twitter this week. I met him through work. Don’t get too excited, it’s not like we’re actually working on anything together, I’ve just seen him around a few times.

“Maddie asks why I lent Dan my jumper.” He was well and truly in this mess now. Phil grasped for a story, settling on something plausible. Hopefully Dan didn’t mind too much. “Did you see Dan on Innuendo Bingo last week? It was really funny, right? He got so wet though. I ran into him in the bathroom afterwards. I was just being nice and helping him out because he looked like a drowned puppy.”

Phil chuckled, trying his best to brush the topic off, maybe bounce off some easier questions to answer about Dan before heading off for the week. Suddenly, though, the chat started filling up with the same messages. Half of them appeared to be copy and pasting something into the chat from some other source, and the other half were just keyboard smashes and different variations of “oh my god” and “did you see what he said?”

Phil assumed it was the other message they were freaking out about, the one everyone was spamming, the one he was clearly supposed to be noticing. Warily, Phil froze the chat so he could read what it said.

_Daniel Howell: um excuse me i thought we were friENDS but go off i guess_

Phil cocked his head, trying to figure out if this Daniel Howell was _his_ Daniel Howell or an impersonator. It certainly sounded like something Dan would say, and Dan _had_ liked his tweet. And Phil knew Dan had a YouNow account because he did liveshows of his own sometimes and… yup. That was definitely the real him.

_Oh, great._

“Hi, Dan!” Phil smiled and waved, trying to figure out how the heck he was going to respond. He settled on teasing Dan back. “I don’t know, I haven’t seen you since Saturday. I thought you forgot about me!”

Of course, that started up a whole new flurry of questions. He should have known.

What was he supposed to say? How much was he _allowed_ to say? It was intimidating enough having to talk around his and Dan’s relationship live to so many people, but to have to talk about it with Dan _listening_? That was so much worse. Dan would know instantly if Phil said something embarrassing, or too revealing, or flat out stupid.

“Everyone wants me to talk more about Dan.” With a sigh, Phil resigned himself to properly answering a few questions about Dan, hoping that if he actually gave his viewers some information they would let him switch topics.

“Justine asks how often I’ve been seeing Dan. A couple of times a week.” _Four or five counts as ‘a couple’ right?_ “Tyler says that it must be cool to be friends with a famous singer. I guess? He’s just Dan to me. He’s a pretty normal guy. I kind of forget that he’s super famous most of the time.”

Phil skimmed the chat for more questions he was willing to answer.

_Amee: have you met isabella because ngl she kinda seems like a bitch_

Phil snorted, unable to completely control his laughter. From what he’d heard about Isabella, or _Izzy_ as Dan tended to call her, he was inclined to agree. Not that he was about to voice that opinion online to seventeen thousand avid viewers. He looked for a less controversial question.

“Misty asks if he actually sent me a preview of a song. He did! I don’t know if I’m allowed to say anything about it though, so I’ll just say that it was great and I liked it a lot. He’s definitely really talented.”

Phil glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen.“Alright guys, one last question and then I’ve got to go. It’s been forty five minutes already! Samantha asks what we usually do together. Well, we started out just chatting because of work, you know, when we happened to both be around. But yeah, we’re friends now and we, er, we grab coffee or snacks together a lot. Most of the time we just hang out and talk, but sometimes we both work on whatever we need to. If you guys have more questions, you can tweet them at Dan, but I can’t promise he’ll answer any of them.

“I’ve got to go now, guys! I hope you all have a good night.” Phil started waving, making it clear he was going to leave. “Bye Brittany! Tiffany says she’s going to do her homework. Good! Bye Peter, bye Jim.”

Phil moved her cursor to the _end_ button, trying to stop the stream. Like usual, younow was slow to respond. Awkwardly, he kept waving at his viewers while he punched the _end_ button a dozen times. Eventually, the screen turned black, and Phil huffed a sigh of relief.

Now that Phil was finally done livestreaming, he tabbed back over to twitter. There was a new DM from Dan, which surprised Phil less and less each time it happened, but he was especially unsurprised this time — Phil didn’t expect to get away with talking about Dan in a livestream that _he was watching_ without hearing from him. The message had been sent while he was still live, and was neither teasing nor admonishing, which had been Phil’s top two guesses at what Dan might have to say.

 _Daniel Howell:_ i’m glad you think of me as a normal guy and not just some famous rockstar

Phil felt his cheeks flush. He was eternally grateful that he’d thrown his phone to the other end of the couch and hadn’t seen that message while he was still live, or else seventeen thousand people would have seen him blushing and Dan… well, knowing Dan, he probably would have noticed the correlation between when the read receipt showed up and when Phil started turning pink.

 _Phil Lester:_ :) of course. I mean, it’s cool that you make music, but you’re more than just Dan Howell, Singing Sensation

He left his phone unlocked on the couch while he went to the loo. When he came back, the screen had dimmed but there was no new notification from Dan. Phil wasn’t sure if that meant Dan hadn’t watched the end of his liveshow, or if Dan had started doing something immediately after, or what. But apparently, he wasn’t going to respond now. Phil sighed and shoved his phone into his back pocket.

Phil’s phone was silent the entire time he cooked and ate dinner. By the time he crawled into bed with his laptop at half past midnight, he’d just about given up on hearing from Dan again. But he should have known late hours of the night meant nothing to Dan.

 _Daniel Howell:_ thanks. i think you’re more than just a famous youtuber for the record

************************

Dan stared at the message he’d typed out to Phil, debating if he really wanted to send it or not.

 _Daniel Howell:_ i’m glad you think of me as a normal guy and not just some famous rockstar

He glanced back at the YouNow tab. Phil was still talking about him, now having moved on to loosely discussing the somewhat shitty snippet of the song that Dan had sent him. That song was basically all he’d been eating, breathing, and thinking about since Isabella had left Sunday night.

Working on his song was easier to deal with than trying to think about the things Izzy had said, than what had happened while she was at his flat, than the possible repercussions of their fight. So instead, he’d been hibernating alone since then, holed up working on his song. The only people he’d talked to were Phil and a few miscellaneous fans on twitter.

Before he could second guess (or third or fourth or fifth guess) it, Dan pressed send on his message to Phil, and shut his laptop, perhaps with more force than necessary.

With a sigh, Dan decided it was time to face the world.

He picked up his phone, and rang Louise. Despite it being nearly eight o’clock at night, she answered on the second ring.

“Daniel, there you are.” Her voice was hushed but stern. Of course. Darcy was probably in bed. Dan _knew_ it was Darcy’s bedtime and he felt bad for calling, but if he didn’t do it while he had the nerve, he would back out. Again.

“Hi Louise,” Dan’s voice came out smaller and more upset than he’d meant for it to. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d been holding back.

“You’re lucky you’ve been active on twitter recently or I would have worried you were dead and just shown up at —”

“Lou,” Dan cut Louise off. “If I ask you for a favor, can you promise to just help me and listen and not lecture me?”

“Aw, love, what’s wrong?” Her voice was instantly softer.

“I just, um, you’re not too bad at arts and crafts, right? Like gluing broken stuff back together?” Dan fiddled with the hem of his shirt, running his fingers through the growing holes at the bottom.

“I’m fairly handy. Do you want me to fix something for you?”

“Yeah, do you mind?”

“Of course not. When do you want to bring it ‘round?”

Dan’s hands moved from his shirt hem to tap at his thigh. “Um, I was thinking now actually. If you’re not busy that is.”

Louise responded without hesitation. “Do you want tea or hot chocolate? Or should I open something stronger?”

Dan felt a wave of relief wash through him. “Hot chocolate sounds lovely, Louise. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Be quiet when you come in, please? Darcy’s asleep.”

“I will.”

Dan hauled himself out of bed. He slipped on a pair of black shoes that horrendously clashed with his white joggers, but _whatever_. He glanced back at his bed, where Phil’s jumper was bunched up, and considered pulling it over his tshirt.

It was just — it was soft. His week had sucked so far. He hadn’t seen Phil in _ages_ , he’d been ignoring all of Izzy’s calls since she’d left, and he was bloody _upset_. He was allowed to wear something soft and comforting.

He decided it was worth whatever prying questions Louise might ask, pulled it on, and made his way to the kitchen.

Carefully, he stepped over the shards of glass, pots, and pans that still littered the kitchen floor to the breakfast bar. _He really needed to clean that up before the maid came tomorrow._

Dan was thankful that he had saved the pieces of the bright pink mug from the floor during their fight. They were still tucked away on the breakfast bar, safe from further harm. Dan piled the pink shards of glass into a container with painstaking care. He glanced around the floor, making sure that he hadn’t missed any pieces. Sticking out from under the ledge of the counter was a bright pink handle. Dan scooped it up and gently added it to the container. With a determined flick, Dan turned the kitchen light off and left.

The night air was colder than he’d anticipated. He probably should have gone back upstairs to fetch a warmer coat. Instead, he pulled Phil’s jumper more tightly around his body, taking care to not jostle the box in his arms too much.

With cold fingers, he dug his keys out of his coat pocket and shakily unlocked the door to Louise’s townhouse. A welcomed rush of warm air hit him when he stepped into the entryway of Louise’s home.

To her credit, Louise was probably the best friend he could have asked for. When he walked into her lounge, he was greeted by Louise sitting on the sofa in front of two mugs of steaming hot chocolate.

Wordlessly, Dan climbed onto the couch, careful not to shake the box too much, and rested his head in Louise’s lap. Louise seemed to switch to full mum mode at the action, running her hand soothingly through his hair and letting him wallow in silence. She didn’t question anything — not the container he was cradling to his chest, nor the bright blue jumper he was wearing that _clearly_ didn’t belong to him, and not even the barely-faded purple marks on his neck that she was _bound_ to have a perfect view of from her position. She didn’t even question why he came over with fifteen minutes notice after three days of radio silence. She just let him be for a few minutes.

His eyes wandered the room as Louise played with his hair. There was a box labeled _crafting supplies_ on the arm chair and a half empty bottle of liquor on the coffee table. He rolled onto his back and looked up at Louise.

“Peppermint Schnapps?”

“Just in case.”

“I love you Louise, you’re the best.” Dan sat and pressed a small kiss to her cheek. He leaned forward and poured a generous splash into both of their mugs, his destroyed mug resting in his lap.

Louise giggled as he handed her one of the mugs. “I know you too well, Dan. Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Dan shifted the container of glass in his lap. “Please, Louise. Can you promise not to lecture me tonight? I know what you’re going to say and I really don’t want to — I just want to talk. And fix this. I need you to fix this.” Dan shoved the container into Louise’s hands.

She opened the box and peered inside. “Oh no! The mug from your grandma. Out of all your mugs, this is the one you broke?”

“Erm, not exactly.”

Louise looked at him curiously.

“They’re all broken. Except one. This is just the only one I care about fixing.”

Louise gasped. “What happened? Did your shelf break or something?”

“No, no. The kitchen’s fine. It was... um, Isabella.”

“Isabella,” Louise said tersely. It wasn’t a question, but Dan knew she was expecting him to explain.

“She came over. Sunday. That’s part of why I’ve been… not around.” Louise stayed silent, waiting for him to keep talking. Dan took a deep breath and continued. “She’d been on twitter and seen Phil and I talking. She accused me of being flirty. When she figured out he was Phil from the coffee shop, she lost it even more than she already had. I know she has a temper, I’ve seen it plenty, but I’d never seen her _that_ livid. She greeted me by throwing all of my pots and pans on the floor and when she ran out of those… well…” Dan nodded at the mug in Louise’s lap in lieu of any further explanation.

Louise studied the broken shards for a minute. When she finally spoke, Dan half expected the lecture he’d begged her not to give, but it didn’t come. “Isabella did this. To all of your mugs?”

Dan nodded. Louise’s eyes flickered down to his neck.

“And then what?” she asked.

“She said a bunch of shitty things. You know she’s not quite comfortable with the… _bi_ thing, and she went off about me being _gay_ and not liking girls and… I don’t know. I lost it too, I guess. One thing lead to another and…” Dan shrugged and took a long sip of his hot chocolate.

Louise narrowed her eyes, appraising him studiously. “You know I have to ask, love. Was it all consensual?”

Dan’s eyes grew wide. “Yeah, yeah of course! It was angry and rough, as I’m sure you can see, but of course. She consented.”

“And you? Did you consent?”

Dan had to fight rolling his eyes, even though he knew she was just looking out for him. “Yes, Mum, I consented too.”

True to her word, Louise simply nodded and moved on. “Let’s see what we can do about your mug, then, shall we?” She sat the container of mug fragments on the coffee table and got up to gather a few supplies from her box of crafting materials.

Dan smiled gratefully at her retreating figure. This was exactly what he’d needed. A chance to talk about their fight without being told how stupidly he’d acted, how big of a bitch Isabella could be, or how unacceptable both of their behavior had been.

Louise came back and diligently spread the bright pink pieces across the table. A comfortable silence fell between them as Dan drank the remainder of his hot chocolate and watched Louise’s delicate hands work out the puzzle. Once she’d figure out how the pieces went together, she motioned him onto the floor next to her.

“Come here, love. I’m going to need your hands too.”

Dan clambered off the sofa and curled his legs under him, settling on the floor by her side. Her hand grasped his and wrapped it around the mostly-intact base of the mug. Louise unscrewed a small tube of glue and lined the jagged edge. The next hot pink chunk fit almost perfectly on top of it. Instinctively, Dan reached out and held the piece in place.

“Push them together firmly. Not too hard, though,” Louise instructed as she reached for the next piece.

Together, they worked silently to rebuild the mug. It was nice to have something to do with his hands, to not be alone. For the first time in days, Dan finally let his mind drift, finally properly contemplating everything that had happened with Isabella.

Their fight was bad. He knew it was. The things that Isabella had said, about his sexuality, about their relationship, about Phil — for days Dan had thought he was angry, livid even. But now that he was here with Louise, finally letting himself think about it, he realized that more than anything, he was _hurt_.

“Look, I know you hate her, and probably with some good reasons,” Dan started.

“Hate is a strong word. How about avidly dislike?” Louise’s fingers were sticky as she manhandled his hands to grip the mug how she wanted.

Dan chuckled a bit, despite himself. “Okay. I know you _avidly dislike_ her, with good reason. At the moment, I’m not her biggest fan either, trust me. Sunday night was shitty — I mean, really fucking shitty — but, I do kind of miss her. And I know, I _know_ this is a dead end relationship. It’s just… comfortable, I guess. And it’s better than nothing, ya know?”

Louise hummed, but didn’t say anything. Dan could tell she was biting her tongue.

“Just say it, Louise. What are you thinking?”

“Are you missing Isabella or the companionship?” Louise questioned without looking up from the mug.

Dan knew his answer instantly.

“Does it matter?” he sighed.

Louise glued the final hot pink shard to the reconstructed mug, and rearranged his hands to cup the entire thing.

“Do you want a real answer?” she asked softly.

Dan sighed. He had a feeling he knew what Louise was going to say. Or at least, the general theme of what her message would be.

“Not really, but go ahead anyway,” he said.

“Of course it matters. I know you like having a person and I can understand that. But companionship is so much better, so much _more,_ when you actually love the person that you’re with. Trust me. And you deserve that. But you’re never going to find that if you stubbornly stay in a broken relationship. Can you honestly tell me that empty companionship is enough?”

Dan contemplated the mug in his hands and slowly loosened his grip. The pieces were fused together. There were dark lines down the sides where it had been glued back together, and there were a few chips missing, pieces that must have been too small for him to notice in the wreckage of his kitchen. There was no way it would be functional ever again. Even if the pieces were glued tightly together enough to hold liquid, the glue probably wouldn’t survive.

But it was intact again. Not whole, not undamaged, not perfect. But intact.

Good enough.

“No, it’s not.” Dan leaned back against the couch. “But it’s good enough.”

***********************

The thermostat in Beans and Grind appeared to be broken.

When Phil had unlocked the door to the coffee shop that morning, he had been assaulted by a wave of absurdly hot air. He’d power walked straight to the thermostat when he’d got inside, frantically shedding his coat as he crossed the shop. He’d turned the dial all the way down, pointing the arrow to the lowest temperature option. At the time, it had seemed like a potentially extreme reaction, but forty five minutes later, it was still just as hot and the heater wasn’t showing any signs of relenting.

With a resigned sigh, Phil pushed the sleeves of his fox patterned jumper up over his elbows. He was slightly disgruntled that he was undoubtedly wrinkling the sleeves; he had been hoping to film a video in it later, and now he’d probably have to change into something neater.

All morning, the before-work crowd had commented on how warm it was in the shop, as if Phil wasn’t aware that it was approximately four _thousand_ degrees. He was grateful when the clock struck nine and the steady stream of customers stopped coming in.

Phil waited until the shop was empty for a few minutes before yanking his oppressively-hot jumper over his head. His white tshirt would have to be professional enough. It was better than suffocating, anyway.

In his haste, his shirt got rucked up with his jumper, both getting tangled around his glasses. He fought the jumper, trying to free it from his face and simultaneously pull his undershirt down, but wasn’t particularly successful at either.

_Ding_

Shit, just his luck that a customer would come in at _this_ moment.

He heard a loud, booming laugh.

He knew that laugh.

 _Dan_.

Suddenly, cold hands were brushing against his chest and tangling in the clothing wrapped around his head. Phil felt Dan grab his tshirt and pull it down his torso, his cold hands grazing his ribcage as he did so. The touch was shocking, and not just because Dan’s fingers were so cold. Everywhere Dan touched, sparks _radiated_ through Phil. Without his consent, his mind rushed to imagining Dan’s hands running up and down his ribs for _far_ different reasons, under _far_ different circumstances. Phil was almost glad his face was hidden because he was positive that his cheeks were flushed red.

When Phil’s shirt was adjusted, Dan’s hands slipped inside the bottom his jumper, sliding inside, and reached up to his face. Carefully, Dan held his glasses in place with one hand and coaxed the neck of the sweater over Phil’s head with the other.

 _Finally,_ Phil was free from the jumper. His eyes adjusted to the light again and he was greeted by a smirking Dan stretched far across the counter, Phil’s fox jumper held tight in his hands. Even being as tall as Dan was, Phil was fairly certain that his feet had to be dangling over the other end

“Morning, Philip. I didn’t realize coffee was coming with a show now.” Dan’s face was cheeky, his eyes roaming up and down Phil’s body.

Phil’s cheeks flushed. “You’re one to talk. You stripped your clothing off last time you were here without any concern about customers.” _Or me._

Dan shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t see you objecting.”

Phil rolled his eyes and grabbed his jumper out of Dan’s hands. “You don’t seem to be _objecting_ either.”

“You’re lucky it was me that walked in. I feel like not everyone would have taken so kindly to seeing you half-naked so close to all the food.” Dan retreated slightly across the counter, but not much, landing with a soft _thump_ on the floor.

“Shut up, you’re making it sound worse than it was. I was only taking off my jumper.”

“Speaking of jumpers, I seem to have forgotten yours. Sorry.” Dan didn’t sound very apologetic.

Phil giggled. It almost seemed like Dan liked wearing Phil’s jumper just as much as Phil enjoyed seeing Dan in it. “If you want to borrow it for a while, all you have to do is ask.”

Dan flushed red and tried to hide his small smile in his chunky scarf, but Phil caught it anyway. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled.

Phil smiled, secretly pleased that Dan apparently liked his jumper so much. “For here or to go today?”

“For here. I have a meeting at eleven but I figured I’d head out early and see you first.”

“Good, I was hoping you had time to stay for a bit.” The porcelain mug clanked against the coffee machine as Phil shoved it under the spout a little too eagerly. Phil tried to ignore the bit of coffee that splashed out against his arm. At least he was no longer wearing his jumper.

Dan pushed the sleeves of his leather jacket up, probably just as affected by the heat in the coffee shop as Phil had been. Phil’s eyes flickered down to Dan’s exposed forearms, eyes catching on the thin red scratch marks running the length of them. Briefly, Phil wondered if Dan had been playing with a cat or a dog recently. He’d pay good money to see that.

“Mmm, of course,” Dan hummed. “You have some explaining to do, mister.”

Cockily, Phil flashed Dan a smirk. “Really? Seems like you watched enough videos that it should be pretty self explanatory.” Phil wasn’t normally one to pay too much attention to new likes and comments on his old videos, but out of curiosity, he’d checked his first video after he knew Dan had watched it. He’d sorted the comments by date and hadn’t been disappointed. Beneath a string of comments screaming about Dan discovering Phil’s first video was a comment from the man himself.

 _Daniel Howell:_ being this precious should be illegal

When he’d found Dan’s comment, Phil had been too curious for his own good and clicked on Dan’s account. Much to his surprise, Dan’s _recently liked videos_ tab was just pages and pages of Phil’s videos. Phil wondered if Dan knew that his likes were public.

Phil had half been expecting Dan to blush when he teased him about watching his videos, but instead, Dan’s lips just quirked up to match Phil’s smirk.

“That’s true, I guess.” Dan reached out to take his coffee from Phil’s hand before he could set it down on the counter, their fingers lightly brushing together. It shouldn’t have affected him the way it did, not when Dan’s hands had been on his bare ribs just moments ago, but Phil had to bite back a gasp at the touch. “I suppose I know a lot more about you now than I did, but all it did was leave me with more questions.

Phil rolled his eyes, trying to appear like he found Dan silly, but really he _got_ it. He so, so deeply understood what Dan meant. The more Phil learned about Dan, both in person and from his dives into the depths of the internet, the more Phil wanted to know.

He’d learned that Dan had a childhood dog at his parents that he _adored_ , but he didn’t know if Dan wanted a dog of his own. He’d learned that Dan was amazing at Mario Kart, but he didn’t know what other games he enjoyed playing. He’d learned that his inspiration for his songs usually came from his own life, but he didn’t know what was inspiring him at this moment.

With a mock resigned sigh, Phil wiped down his work area — he’d accidentally made a mess of it during the morning rush. “Alright, then, Howell. Let’s hear your questions.”

As soon as the words were out of Phil’s mouth, Dan’s questions poured out of him the same way his words always did when he was passionate about something — fast, loud, and all at once.

“Why did you decide to start youtube? Was it hard to get into it? What’s it like working with the BBC? Why the heck do you work at a coffee shop? Do you think —”

Phil threw his drying rag at Dan, smacking him in the face. “Slow down, will you? I can only answer one question at a time.”

Dan’s boisterous laugh filled the coffee shop. “Sorry, I got excited.” He threw the towel back at Phil, sprinkling black coffee grounds onto Phil’s white shirt in the process. “Start at the beginning then. How’d you get started on youtube?”

Between fans, interviewers, and confused adults, Phil got that question a lot and had an answer ready. “I got a camera in a cereal box and just started making videos.”

Dan cocked his head, considering Phil. “That’s it then? You just found a camera and your first thought was _I’m going to make youtube videos_?”

Something about the way Dan’s eyes bore into Phil coaxed out a deeper answer, an answer he usually kept private. Dan had a way of doing that. Those big puppydog eyes could probably make Phil confess to anything. “At first, it wasn’t a thing. _YouTube_ wasn’t a thing. I just kind of posted the first video for fun, and then, over time, I found myself coming back to it. I was living at my parents after uni. Most of my friends either didn’t live near me or were disgustingly in love and… I don’t know. I was bored I guess. I wanted a way to connect with new people, maybe a way to make some friends. So when I discovered the youtube community, which was so small and close-knit back then, it seemed like the right thing to do.”

Phil wasn’t sure what he expected from Dan after he let all of _that_ pour out — perhaps pity — but it wasn’t _understanding_. Which was exactly what he ended up getting.

“That’s kind of how I got started in music, actually! I hated so much that was happening in my life, I didn’t have friends, I just _needed_ to do something I loved.”

“Exactly!” Phil agreed. “And I made so many good friends so quickly. It was exactly what I needed. As for getting popular, it was a lot easier back then. Like I said, it was really close knit, so we all collabed together and promoted each others’ channels. I was even part of a few community things, like ApartmentRed. And slowly, my subscribers grew and grew and grew until I woke up one day and I had over four million subscribers. I couldn’t believe it. All I could think was, I’m just Phil, from Rawtenstall.” Embarrassed that he’d been talking about himself for so long, Phil tried to switch the conversation over to Dan. “What about you? How did you get popular with music?”

Phil already knew, sort of. He’d seen clips of Dan talking about how an up and coming producer had come into a bar he was playing at by complete chance one night, and asked him to come to the studio the next Monday to play some of his original pieces for their boss. But Phil was willing to bet that Dan, like himself, only ever told part of his origin story during interviews.

“I was eighteen and I had been accepted to study law at Manchester University, but I hated the idea of it, so I decided to take a gap year and really give music a go. My parents fucking _hated_ it. They said that if I wasn’t going to be working towards a more viable future by taking this _horrific_ internship at a law firm, then I wasn’t allowed to live at home. I think they really thought I’d give in. But. I don’t know. I was young and passionate and reckless and stubborn, so I packed a bag, grabbed my guitar, and left. I got a job at a DIY store — which I was horrible at, by the way — and a really crappy studio apartment, and spent every free night I had playing gigs at shitty dive bars. And eventually, it paid off.”

Phil shook head, a bit in awe of Dan’s courage. He’d never realized how much Dan had risked when he decided to chase his dreams.

“Wow, that was so bold of you. I guess I was really lucky. My parents were really supportive of the youtube thing. I think initially they were just happy that I was doing something, making friends. But when it became clear that it might become _profitable_ someday, they did everything they could to help. How do your parents feel about you singing now?”

“They’ve come around,” Dan answered as he shrugged out of his leather jacket all together, draping it on the stool next to him. Clearly, the heat in the store was beginning to get to him. “I think they were only really against it in the beginning because they wanted what was best for me and, well, I guess you know how difficult trying to make it the entertainment business can be. But we’re close now and they support what I’m doing. What about your family? You seem really close with them.”

“Yeah,” Phil agreed. “We are. They all think it’s cool, and my brother actually does a lot of behind the scenes stuff for me. My extended family is a bit confused by it all though. Like, outside of my grandma, I think most of them are convinced I make a different type of internet video.” Phil attempted a wink and immediately regretted it — he was well aware of how unsexy his two-eyed attempt at winks were.

Dan laughed, loud and unrestrained. “Now there’s an image. Innocent AmazingPhil fucking someone on the internet for money.”

“Hey! I am innocent,” Phil argued indignantly, pretending to be offended.

Dan laughed, doing his best to give Phil an incredulous look despite it. “Right. Do I need to remind you that you called me _daddy_ like three days ago?”

“I was kidding!”

“Right, and we know only innocent people joke about daddy kinks.” Dan tugged at the chunky grey scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. _Was Dan okay?_ Phil was kind of surprised Dan had lasted so long all bundled up he way he was.

“Jesus fuck, it’s really fucking hot in here,” Dan grumbled.

“I know,” Phil agreed. “That would be why I was trying to take off my jumper when you got in. You’ll probably be more comfortable if you take your scarf off.”

It seemed the logical thing to do, but Dan looked unsure, his eyes flickering between his half-finished coffee and Phil, as if the last thing he wanted was to remove his scarf. Phil squinted at Dan, confused

“You have to promise not to give me shit,” Dan tried to threaten.

It occured to Phil, then, that Dan was _embarrassed_. Cocking an eyebrow, Phil taunted, “I don’t think I can make any such promises, but go on then.”

Dan grumbled something incomprehensible, but obligingly lifted his hands to his scarf. A bit reluctantly, Dan unwound the grey fabric. Suddenly, Phil understood that the scratches on Dan’s arms likely weren’t from an animal — not if the marks on his neck were anything to go by.

Phil could feel his heart plummet into his stomach at the sight. He knew, obviously he _knew_ that Dan had a girlfriend. And she was gorgeous. Of course, of course they were having sex. It was just — he’d never _thought_ about it. Not really. Isabella had always been a distant figure in Dan’s life, one he didn’t even really talk about that much.

But now...

Now, Phil had no _choice_ but to think about Dan and her having sex.

He felt like an idiot. His thoughts of Dan falling apart underneath his felt like distant fantasies all of a sudden. Instead, he was falling apart with someone else — his girlfriend. _Girl_ friend.

With a jolt, Phil realized he’d been silently staring at Dan’s neck a bit too long. Deliberately, Phil forced out a laugh, which came out weaker than he’d been hoping for.

“Damn,” Phil added.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Dan mumbled into his coffee cup.

With a monumental effort, Phil did his best to revert back to his joking self, trying to emotionally distance himself from the thought of Isabella leaving those marks on Dan. “And here you were saying that _I’m_ not innocent. I don’t think you get those kinds of marks from being a good boy,” Phil teased.

Phil saw a flicker of something flash through Dan’s eyes. He’d forgotten what those words apparently did to Dan.

Evilly, Phil leaned forward on his elbows, resting his chin in his palm. “Were you a _bad boy_ , Daniel?”

Instantly, Dan’s cheeks turned a deep, dark red. The expression was far prettier to focus on then the hickies covering his neck. Apparently _bad boy_ affected Dan just as much as _good boy_.

“Fuck off. We got into a bit of a fight, if you must know.”

“A fight?” Phil prompted against his better judgment, taken by surprise.

“Yeah, protip: angry sex may feel great in the moment, but it hurts like fuck for days.”

Phil hadn’t been expecting Dan to actually like, admit to being a bad boy. And if Phil was being honest he kind of hated Dan confirming what he’d suspected.

“Those marks are _days_ old?”

Dan huffed. “You should have seen them Monday.”

“Oh, wow. Um, are you guys okay?”

Why did he ask that? There was no potential good answer. If Dan said no, Phil wouldn’t be able to keep himself from feeling kind of sort of happy about it, despite feeling bad for Dan at the same time.. If Dan said yes — well, Phil’s heart just needed to get used to taking a beating when it came to Dan.

Dan didn’t answer right away. His eyes bore into Phil’s, almost as if he was looking for something, but Phil didn’t know what.

Finally, he spoke, sounding defeated.

“I don’t think we ever are. But we’re good enough.”

 

 


	8. 8 (9808 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love [ auroraphilealis ](http://www.auroraphilealis.tumblr.com) with everything in my heart. she completely put her evening on hold because i really really wanted to upload tonight but was in a weird mindset and literally just followed behind me on my google doc and encouraged me and helped me stay on track.
> 
> she's literally the best writing buddy and friend that a girl could ask for <3

Dan had a long, difficult day in the studio. While his producer had really liked the new song that he’d spent the past two weeks writing, he was having immense difficulty teaching the song to his guitarist and pianist. 

It was partially his fault. 

Growing up, Dan had been a self-taught musican. After a few awkward lessons, he taught himself the piano, and really, he didn't have tons more formal training with the guitar. As a result, the songs he wrote on the instruments often had a bit more... character than those composed by a more classically trained musician. While Dan felt that he had gotten extremely lucky with the people the record company had paired him with, he sometimes felt that they were a bit too rigid for his rebellious nature. This song in particular had some chord pairings that Dan knew were a bit dubious, but he hoped that if everyone just trusted him, they would come together in a complementary and interesting fashion.

Dan had sat down with the musicians individually earlier in the week to teach them their pieces. Independently, both pieces were coming along well. Today, however, was the first day that Dan, the guitarist, and the pianist had started practicing together and it had been… rocky. Dan had also realized halfway through the day that he needed to start thinking about the drums for this song. He knew creating new music would be so much easier — and faster — if he was just willing to let other people have some input, to take over some aspects of of his music. But Dan was incapable of giving up creative control. He wasn’t willing to sign his name on music that he hadn’t created from start to finish, that he wasn’t completely happy with. It was the one criterion that Dan had refused to budge on when negotiating his contract: he was allowed full control over his music and would _never_ be required to sing anything he hadn’t written himself. 

By the time Dan and his team wrapped up their day at eight, Dan wasn't sure what he wanted more: a steaming cup of coffee, or a strong mixed drink. He debated between the options right up until he passed the liquor store on his way home. That’s when he realized he could have the best of both worlds: spiked coffee.

He had coffee at home, right? He was pretty sure he had a bit of beans left that morning.

Altering course slightly, Dan turned and dipped into the liquor store to pick up a bottle of Baileys. It was an alcohol he hadn't had in a long time — growing up, his parents had both really liked it, and he’d snuck it out of their liquor cabinet more than a time or two. But Isabella hated how many calories it had, so he'd slowly stopped keeping it on hand. It was a shame — Baileys made a really good nightcap.

As Dan was ringing up the Baileys, he realised he’d used his last cup of coffee beans that morning. Trying not to feel too disappointed, Dan contemplated stopping by Tesco to buy more, but was genuinely too lazy to walk the block and a half out of the way. The liquor store had been on the way, but Tesco? Dan usually just ordered groceries in.

Glancing at the time on his phone, Dan noticed that Beans and Grind was still open for another twenty minutes, and decided to just pick up a cup (or two) on his way to his flat.

He knew Phil wouldn’t be in, but he wasn’t looking for his companionship tonight. Right now, Dan was just looking for something he could pour his alcohol into. 

"Hi Emmalee," Dan smiled and greeted the employee as he walked into the shop. Ever since Phil had started working at the coffee shop and Dan had started talking his ear off, Dan had tried to make more of an effort to be friendlier with the other employees there too. 

Emmalee was Dan’s favorite aside from Phil, and the only other worker Dan actually saw on a regular basis.

The first few times that he’d found her during the day, not Phil, Dan had asked after him. Every time, though, she smiled and gave him this playfully smug _knowing_ look and he found himself trying to pretend he wasn’t missing Phil. 

So far, Dan had learned that Emmalee was the unofficial manager, of sorts. Her grandmother had been the one to open the coffee shop and was mostly retired, which was why Dan never saw her. Jake, the guy who smoked a lot, was probably on the verge of being fired because he had a tendency to call out of his shifts at last minute, which was something Dan had mostly overheard Emmalee complaining about to Phil. 

Dan had been coming to the coffee shop so long know that he knew Phil normally worked the morning shifts, partially because no one else wanted to and partially because they fit best around his filming and BBC schedule, and Emmalee worked the night shifts. Dan was pretty happy about that, since most of his trips to Beans and Grind were in the mornings, which meant he got to spend more time with Phil. Emmalee preferred the closing shifts, mainly because she (according to Phil, at least) was a bit obsessive about counting the money and closing the register right. Jake worked... well, whenever the fuck they could get him to work, really.

Emmalee smiled at Dan when he got to the register. "What do you want tonight, Dan?"

Dan contemplated at the menu, not used to ordering anything more exciting that some amount of plain, black espresso. "Um... what usually goes best with Baileys do you think?"

Emmalee laughed. "Like the irish creme, you mean?"

"Yeah." Dan waved the brown paper bag at her. "It's been a day, okay?"

"I don't know, I don't drink much, sorry. Hang on — Phil! Come here!"

Dan's eyebrows raised in surprise. 

Not only did Phil rarely work evenings, he very rarely worked at the same time as Emmalee since there were so few employees. Dan usually only saw them together when the shifts crossed over, which was rare enough as it was. True to Emmalee's words, though, Phil trotted out of the kitchen. There was a muffin half shoved in his mouth and he was trailing crumbs behind him. When he saw Dan, his eyes grew wide and his free hand reached up to brush the muffin bits away from his mouth. Dan's reaction wasn't too much more composed, really. His hand immediately rushed up to his hair, trying to arrange his mess of curls into something slightly neater after an entire day of tugging at them in frustration.

Emmalee glanced between the two of them, her eyebrows slightly raised and a smirk pulling at her lips.

In hindsight, Dan could have tried harder to convince Emmalee that he wasn’t interested in Phil. 

"Phil," she said, breaking the weird tension that had built. "Dan here is wondering what coffee might go best with Baileys and, well, I figure you drink more than me, so you might know."

"Oh!" Phil nodded, waving at Dan. "Hey. Um, maybe a latte or macchiato? Since they both already have milk in them?"

"Yeah, you're right." He sounded awkward, even to his own ears. And then, against Dan's will, the question he'd been wondering since Emmalee had called for Phil tumbled out of his mouth. "Why are you working tonight?"

_Jesus, why was he so socially awkward?_

Phil and Emmalee both laughed, but they were different laughs. Phil's laugh was giggly and unsure, while Emmalee's sounded far too knowing and suspicious for Dan's taste.

"Just helping out with some inventory stuff for a little bit, thought I'd save Emmalee from having to do it after hours." Phil shrugged.

"Oh, that's nice." Dan shifted his brown bag from one hand to the other. "Um, I'll have a caramel macchiato then. That sounds like it'd go alright."

“I think that’s Phil’s favorite drink too. Maybe while I finish counting the register, you could make yourself and Dan one?”

Phil raised his eyebrows at her. "Er, yeah."

"You know, a treat, since you came in to help me when you aren't normally scheduled and all."

"Okay..." Phil smiled at Emmalee, but Dan could see the confusion in his eyes. With a small shrug, Phil set to work making their coffees. 

Dan dropped a tenner next to the register, knowing he didn't technically have to pay for Phil's coffee since Emmalee had told him to make himself one, but feeling like it was the nice thing to do anyway, and slid down the counter to hover across from Phil at the espresso machine. 

"So, Phil, how's your day been? You weren't here this morning."

“Yeah, I had a meeting with the BBC at ten, so I didn’t work here. I missed seeing you though. I know you’ve been busy at the studio and everything, but I feel like we haven’t had the chance to hang out the past couple of days.”

“I know, it doesn’t seem right that I’ve been working every time I’ve been here this week.” 

"Actually, Phil —" Emmalee cut in. "Thanks again for coming in, but you can head out when you're done making the drinks if you want. I think I'm good to close up alone."

Dan’s gaze flickered over to Emmalee. There was a mischievous spark in her eyes and Dan wasn’t quite sure what she thought she was playing at. 

“Are you sure you don’t need help closing up? I can mop the floors so you don’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it. Jake’s supposed to close with me tomorrow and I’ll make him do it. He deserves it.” 

“Okay, um, thanks.” Phil smiled gratefully at Emmalee before turning his attention back to Dan and their drinks. “So how has life in the studio been?”

Dan shrugged, plopping his brown bag of alcohol down on the counter. “So great that I’m planning to go home and drink alone.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m kidding, mostly. It’s been good. Productive. Just long days. I’m looking forward to relaxing with a drink.”

Phil nodded like he understood what Dan was getting at. And maybe he did. He was in the entertainment business, after all, and could relate to the pressures of creating and perfecting new content. 

“Drinking alone? Louise or… Isabella aren’t around to drink with you?”

“Uh,” Dan hesitated. Isabella had been a weird subject for him to talk about with Phil since she’d accused Dan of flirting with Phil on twitter and spending too much time with him. Dan just felt… shitty about the whole thing, and he hated that Isabella was making him feel shitty about making a new friend, but he’d decided to just ignore the whole thing as best as he could and hope it would go away. 

It was working. 

For the most part. 

Well, somewhat. A little. Oh well. 

“Louise is at home with Darcy and I’ve already crashed at her house a few too many times after Darcy’s bedtime this week. I feel like she might want to see her actual boyfriend at some point. I know I would if I was her.”

“What, you don’t want to see your actual girlfriend then?” 

Phil’s eyes grew wide the second the words were out of his mouth, as if he was surprised that he’d actually said them. Dan couldn’t blame him really — somehow, Phil seemed to have caught on to Dan’s reluctance to discuss Izzy with him and only acknowledged that she existed when Dan mentioned her, so it was a surprise to him too that Phil had brought her up first.

“Er…” Dan spun his phone around in between his fingers. “Not tonight. I guess I just need to destress a bit? Sometimes that’s… hard, um, with some people.”

Phil’s expression was unreadable as he sat Dan’s to-go cup of coffee in front of him. “So you’re wanting to be alone tonight then?”

Dan grabbed the cup, pushing the coffee sleeve up and down anxiously. “Not exactly, I guess I just wanted some to chill with friends, but it’s a weeknight, so it’s not like I can make Addie come hang out with me.”

"I mean, Phil doesn't have anything to do tonight either," Emmalee interrupted, her voice saccharine. "I think he said he was just gonna go home and watch Netflix."

_That little shit._

“Um,” Phil’s eyes darted back and forth between Emmalee and Dan. “Yeah, actually. I don’t have much going on tonight…”

Dan and Phil made eye contact, a bit more awkward than should have been the case for two guys that Dan thought were pretty good friends. A full minute went by before Emmalee broke the silence.

“Philip, since you and Dan both have coffee and nothing to do, I bet Dan would be willing to share his Baileys with you if you invited him over to keep him company.”

Her comment seemed to startle Phil into action. “Right, yeah, I mean, I wasn’t really planning on much. We could hang out at my place if you wanted? But it’s fine if you’d prefer to just go home, I know you’ve had a really long we—”

“Hanging out at your place sounds lovely, Phil,” Dan interrupted. 

Before Phil could respond, Emmalee jumped in again. “Great. Well, you lads have fun then. Phil, I’ll see you soon. I’m working the morning shift tomorrow, remember, so have a good night.”

Phil made a face and kind of shrugged before setting his coffee cup down on the counter. “Give me a second, I just need to grab my coat from the back room.” 

Dan fumbled with their coffee cups, trying to figure out if he wanted to say anything about what had just happened to Emmalee. Instead, he shook the brown bag and one of the coffee cups at her. “Do you mind if I…” He mimed tipping the bottle into the cup.

“Go for it. You lads have a good night.” Emmalee sent him a wink.

For a minute, Dan debated if it was worth trying to explain to her that _it wasn’t like that_. That him and Phil _were just friends_. That he _had a girlfriend_ and really, didn’t know anything about _Phil’s love life._

In the end, though, he decided it wasn’t worth the effort to explain any of that, and set about dumping their drinks into larger cups that he nicked from behind the counter, and topping the rest of the cup off with liquor. He’d just gotten the lids secured onto the larger cups when Phil popped out of the employee’s only door, all bundled up in his coat. Smiling, Dan met him halfway across the coffee shop and handed Phil his new cup.

“Ready?” Dan asked.

“Let’s go,” Phil responded, taking a sip of his drink. His eyebrows shot up and he flashed Dan a mischievous smirk. “Oh! I see you were busy while I was gone.”

Dan chuckled. “I figured I’d make use of my time. Now, how are we getting to your flat?”

“It’s a ten minute tube ride, twenty minute walk. But at this time of night they even out to the same amount of time when you consider waiting for the tube. Or we can take an uber. Up to you.”

Dan zipped his coat up the rest of the way. “Walking sounds good. Not to break my extreme-introvert image, but I haven’t been outside all day today, and I’m feeling a bit restless. We have our drinks, it’ll be fine.” 

Phil quickly agreed, and motioned Dan toward the exit, holding the door open for him. Dan hovered on the pavement once outside, unsure which direction Phil lived in. 

“This way,” Phil said with a nod. 

Together, Dan and Phil set off down the street, heading in the opposite direction from Dan’s flat. Briefly, Dan considered suggesting they go to his place instead — it was only half a block away after all — but he quickly remembered the mess of dishes (and laundry) that were currently strewn across his flat and aborted that idea. 

The first few minutes of their walk were spent in silence. A compatible, comfortable silence. Or, at least, Dan thought it was. He hoped Phil found it comfortable and not awkward, too. Dan risked a quick glance at Phil’s face to find him smiling softly, sipping at his liquor infused coffee. The expression was comforting to Dan.

As they walked to Phil’s, Dan contemplated their… friendship.

The past week or so had been a bit of a change of dynamic for them — not in a bad way. They still talked and joked around every chance they got, but Dan had also spent a couple of mornings actually doing work at Beans and Grind and they’d learned how to just… coexist. It was nice. 

It was nice having someone that Dan felt like he didn’t have to try around, or fish for conversation to fill the silence. 

While he had worked, Phil had kept himself busy with his own stuff, particularly when the store went dead in the mid-mornings. At one point, Phil’d edited a video, propped up on the employee’s stool behind the counter. Dan had begged him for a sneak peek at new AmazingPhil content, but it wasn’t until Dan reminded Phil that he’d sent him an unedited, shitty clip of a song that he’d only half composed that Phil relented. 

Rather than showing Dan any of the proper, edited video though, Phil had queued up a few of the outtakes for Dan to watch. Phil had smiled mischievously when he’d done this, as though he was playing an evil trick on Dan. But what Phil didn’t realize was that Dan would much rather see the silly behind-the-scenes bloopers than a proper preview anyway.

Things were good between them. 

Phil took a long sip of his coffee before finally speaking. “So, Daniel, how hasyour time in the studio been this week? Or do you not want to talk about work?”

Dan snuck a glance at Phil. He looked interested, in a different way than Louise or Isabella ever did. 

Louise cared about how his days were — obviously she did, they were best friends — but when she asked him about work, there were always the _I’m your manager_ undertones, and Dan felt a bit of pressure to make his days sounded as productive as possible. Isabella, on the other hand, didn’t _really_ seem to care about his answer half the time. Recently, Dan had gotten the impression that she cared more and more about whether or not whatever he was doing was something public that she could potentially be a part of, than if he was enjoying whatever he was filling his days with.

But maybe he was just being oversensitive.

Whatever it was though, he decided to ignore it. He’d rather just enjoy this moment, this cold, brisk walk, this (hopefully) drunken evening with Phil.

“I’d rather not talk about it right now, honestly. I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed today and would rather just… relax.”

“Relaxing sounds good, I can do that.” Phil bumped his shoulder into Dan’s lightly. “Come on, this way.”

Phil led Dan down a side street. The traffic had dissipated and the street lights were less bright here. Everything felt calmer. Dan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Maybe he really could relax tonight. Phil seemed to notice the shift in Dan’s attitude — maybe he even understood that Dan needed a few minutes of silence. Studio days were always so _loud_. 

The rest of the walk was spent in an easy silence. Dan occupied his mind by taking in his surroundings. Every time he looked over to Phil, their gazes caught and they exchanged soft smiles.

When they got to Phil’s flat, Phil shoved his key into his lock, jostling the door until it opened. 

“Sorry, it’s not very neat. I wasn’t planning on having company over today.” Phil pushed the door open, motioning for Dan to enter ahead of him. Always the perfect gentlemen. 

“Don’t worry, I was going to suggest my flat because it was closer until I remembered how much of a mess it is. Trust me, yours can’t be any worse than mine.”

“Oh, thanks, let me be the one that’s humiliated then,” Phil laughed.

Inside, Dan followed Phil’s lead and kicked his shoes off by the door. Phil sat his coffee down on the entryway table; Dan started to set his down too before realizing that the table was too small to hold both cups. As a result, he was left trying to tuck his cup between his neck and shoulder, and the bottle of alcohol between his elbow and side in attempt to be able to use both hands to work at his zipper. 

Phil’s hands reached out towards Dan. Dan expected Phil to take the precarious coffee cup or bottle from his grip, but instead Phil’s hands landed on Dan’s zipper.

“Hold on to your belongings, silly,” Phil said with a lopsided grin. His tongue peeked out slightly, tucked between his teeth. Dan’s hands scrambled for a more secure purchase on the drinks. Luckily, he secured them seconds before Phil’s hands grazed his neck as he grasped Dan’s zipper.

It took every ounce of self control Dan possesed for him to bite back his gasp.

His neck had always been his most sensitive area — enough so that he usually made it an off-limits zone with his partners. But Phil’s fingers brushing against it —

Jesus christ, it had been too long since Dan had gotten laid.

For better or worse, Dan functioned best with sex in his life. It was one of the things that made him happy — both physically and emotionally. But in the two weeks since his fight with Isabella, they’d only seen each other for dinner or drinks, always out at restaurants or bars.

If he’d wanted to, if he’d tried, he probably could have gone out with Isabella. If he put in the effort, treated her to whatever she wanted tonight, she’d probably have finally let him come home with her. He’d thought about it, earlier that day when she’d texted him. It had just seemed… like a lot of effort.

So instead, here he was in Phil’s flat. Isabella would probably murder him if she knew he’d ignored her text messages and come here, but. Oh well.

Phil’s hands were steady as they pulled Dan’s zipper down his front slowly. When his jacket was fully unzipped, Phil shifted his coffee to Dan’s other hand, and helped him shimmy his arm out of the sleeve. Once Dan’s arm was free, Phil passed the objects back, and worked to take his other hand out of the coat.

The entire time, Dan wasn’t sure where to look. Despite Phil’s goofy smile, his gaze was intense, and Dan found himself needing to avert his eyes. He looked downward, watching Phil’s hands dance across his upper body as he took his coat off for him.

He wasn’t used to people taking care of him like this. Not even something as simple as helping him out of his jacket.

For lack of something better to do with himself, Dan drank a long swig of his coffee while Phil first hung up Dan’s coat, then his own. He took advantage of Phil’s distracted attention by taking a few deep steadying breaths.

_Why the hell had that affected him so much?_

“There you go. Your coffee almost empty too?” 

Phil’s question pulled Dan out of his thoughts. He shook his cup. “Yeah, just a few drops left.”

Phil nodded, unzipping his own coat. “Lounge is the first door on the right, make yourself comfortable. I’ll put a pot of coffee on for us so we can have another round?”

“Sounds great.” Dan trotted in the direction that Phil had pointed, finding his way into the lounge. Just like Phil, the room was loud and vibrant. It seemed to perfectly capture everything that Dan knew Phil loved. Beneath the tv was a complete _mess_ of wires, all running to different gaming systems. The bookcases were overflowing with boxed collections, board games, and knick knacks. 

Dan knew it was probably rude to rifle through someone else’s possessions, but, well, Phil _had_ told him to make himself comfortable. Without questioning his actions any further, Dan sat his nearly-empty cup on the coffee table and made his way to the bookcase, wanting to get a closer look at what Phil owned.

From all the long conversations at Beans and Grind, Dan knew that he and Phil had similar interests in movies and tv, but it wasn’t until he was looking at Phil’s collection that he realized _just how similar_ their tastes were. He’d seen almost everything that Phil owned. The one’s he hadn’t see, were on his mental to-watch list. There were only a handful of movies and shows that Phil owned that Dan had never heard of.

He turned his attention to the other objects on the bookcase. The cute knick knacks were all very _Phil_ , a fun combination of nerdy and grown-up-child. He liked it. It was a lot different than Dan’s own monochrome aesthetic. The bookcase was also littered with pictures, some in frames, some just simple polaroids leaned up against other objects. Dan was just bending over to get a closer look at the pictures when he heard Phil enter the room behind him. Dan shot up straight, trying to look like he hadn’t been snooping.

Even though he totally had been.

If Phil cared, he didn’t show it.

“Whatcha looking at?” he asked.

“I thought I’d see if you had any really embarrassing guilty pleasures.”

Phil laughed, setting a bowl of popcorn down on the table and picking up Dan’s cup. “I know better than to keep anything I’d be embarrassed about out in my lounge. As you know, I do liveshows in here.” Phil sent him an awkward attempt at a wink. It looked silly, and in no way should a squinty, forced blink with both eyes be attractive. 

But it was. 

“The coffee will be ready in a minute. I made some popcorn — I wasn’t sure if you’d had dinner yet?”

“I had a late lunch. Popcorn sounds great, thanks.” Dan was acutely aware that he should probably have something more substantial than _popcorn,_ but he didn’t want to put Phil out. He’d already crashed his evening, he didn’t need to eat his food too. 

Slightly self conscious at being caught going through Phil’s belongings, Dan migrated to the couch. As soon as he was seated, he realized just how great it was to be off his feet. He always spent most of his day standing up when he was at the studio. It was harder to properly sing sitting down.

Without any consideration for what Phil’s household rules might be, Dan swung his legs onto the couch, back against the armrest, effectively taking up the full length of it. The back of the couch was soft and plush against his temple. He let his eyes drift close as he waited for Phil. He wasn’t tipsy — not yet — but he could feel the warmth of the alcohol enveloping his body, the slight blurring of the sharp edges of his mind. It was nice. 

He heard Phil plod into the room, heard the _thump_ of cups being sat on the table, but he let his eyes stay closed for another moment, relishing the moment of peace.

“Tired already, Howell?”

Dan lifted his head at Phil’s teasing tone. He had a cheeky smile on his face and was holding out a mug to Dan. 

“Just relaxing,” Dan responding, taking the mug from Phil’s outstretched hand.

“Well relax in a position that lets me sit on the couch, too.” Phil nudged at Dan’s ankles.

With a needlessly dramatic huff, Dan pulled his legs in towards his body, curling them in front of himself so that Phil had room to sit. Phil sat down almost in the middle of the couch, just inches away from Dan’s toes. He was tempted to kick his foot out and poke Phil in the thigh, but fought the urge. Instead, he brought the mug up to his lips and tested the temperature of the drink with the tip of his tongue. 

Dan perked up, taking a full taste of the drink in curiosity. “What’s this, Philip?”

Phil chuckled, taking a drink from his own mug. “I had some whiskey on hand so I added a splash. Seemed like the right thing to do.”

“You’re a good lad. Cheers,” Dan raised his cup up, clinking it against Phil’s. 

“So, do you always make yourself so comfortable in people’s homes the first time you visit?”

A warm heat spread up through Dan’s cheeks. “What do you mean?”

Phil nodded back to his bookcase and then motioned towards Dan on the couch. “First I catch you going through my stuff, and now you’re curled up on my couch like it’s yours. What if I was against feet on the couch, hmm?”

For a split second, Dan panicked and thought Phil was serious — that he was actually annoyed that Dan was looking at his things, that it was actually not okay for him to be in this casual of a position on Phil’s couch. But Phil’s tone was light, his mouth pulled into a wide smile, and his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Fuck off, you spoon. I didn’t realize I was being awkward, okay?” Dan teased back, taking another long drink from his mug. Despite being crappier, store bought coffee, this drink was better — stronger. The combination of Baileys and whiskey was delicious, electrifying his body and soothing his mind.

“So what? Did you find anything interesting?” Phil cocked an eyebrow.

“Actually,” Dan said, intentionally taunting, “I know you said you kept the embarrassing stuff out of site, _but_ I couldn’t help but noticing you owned _The Notebook_. Care to explain, Philip?”

Phil sputtered, swallowing just in time to not dribble coffee out of his mouth. “Look, sometimes you just need a good cry, okay? I’m sure you own something just as bad. Come on, Howell, what’s the worst thing on your bookshelf?”

Dan narrowed his eyes, stalling by taking another drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lester.”

Phil held his gaze of the brim of his cup. “Bullshit, Howell. Tell me.”

Dan tucked his mug between his knees, letting his legs slip further across the couch a bit until his toes made contact with Phil’s leg. “Look, I would like to say in my defense that some movies are automatically less shit when they have pretty people in them, okay?”

“Oh my god,” Phil’s hand reached out and shook Dan’s knee. “What it is? What do you own?”

“Um,” Dan swirled the contents of his cup. “All of the High School Musical movies.”

Phil’s hand tightened on his knee, accidentally tickling Dan and causing him to let out a high-pitched squeal. Dan batted at Phil’s hand on impulse, but was disappointed when his movement made Phil withdraw his hand from Dan’s knee entirely.

_Shit._

_Was he tipsy?_

Phil’s hand fell onto the sofa, brushing close to the underside of Dan’s ankle. It wasn’t the same as his knee, but it was still a soft and gentle touch. Reassuring. Warm.

Relaxing.

“All of them? Really? They were all _babies_ when those movies were filmed!”

“So was I!” Dan batted at Phil’s shoulder indignantly.

“Oh, did little Dan have a crush? There are a lot of pretty faces to gawk at there. Who was cute baby Dan into?” 

Dan downed the rest of his drink. “Leave cute baby Dan’s sexual awakening alone, okay?”

Without warning, Dan swung his feet off the couch, accidentally slightly kicking Phil in the process. He stood up abruptly and could feel the alcohol making him slightly unsteady on his feet. That didn’t stop him from holding his hand out towards Phil.

“Finish your drink. I’ll refill us, yeah?”

Obediently, Phil chugged the remaining few swallows from his cup, handing his mug over to Dan. Dan took the cup, turning on his heel and leaving the room to find Phil’s kitchen on his own. 

“Add a spoonful of sugar to mine!” Phil yelled from the lounge.

“OKAY!” Dan yelled back. 

On the walk to Phil’s, Dan had briefly feared that their friendship, their easy banter, their common interests might not hold up outside the confines of Beans and Grind, but five minutes on Phil’s couch proved that to be a foolish worry. Everything about being with Phil, about being in his space was _easy_. The only person he’d ever felt a similar kind of efortlessness with before was Louise — but the atmosphere was different with Phil. Dan didn’t want to focus too much on _how_ it was different. He wasn’t _allowed_ to think about that. 

He found his way to the kitchen and poured more coffee into each of their mugs. He wasn’t sure what the ratio of booze to coffee Phil had used earlier was, so he filled the mugs half full, leaving the rest of the room free for alcohol. Glancing around, Dan looked for a shot glass, but gave up almost immediately. Instead, he split the remaining half of the glass between the Baileys and the Jameson, which Phil had fortunately left on the counter. Tentatively, Dan brought one of the mugs to his lips to taste the concoction. 

_Holy fuck that was strong_. 

Somewhat desperately, Dan dumped a bit more than a spoonful of sugar into each of their drinks, hoping to disguise the potent taste of the whiskey.

_It’s fine. Whatever._

Dan was looking to let loose tonight anyways.

Dan teetered back into the living room, thrusting Phil’s mug at him with a bit more momentum than strictly necessary. Hesitantly, Dan stared at the couch for a moment before shoving his mug in Phil’s direction, too, hoping he’d catch on. Luckily, he did. Phil reached out and grasped Dan’s mug, holding it high in the air so Dan could settle into the couch.

With absolutely no grace, Dan collapsed onto the sofa, letting his back rest against the armrest like he was earlier. For a split second, he mentally debated what to do about his legs, but let them swing up, resting in Phil’s lap before he could overthink it. 

If Phil was caught off guard by his actions, his face didn’t show it. He waited until Dan was situated before handing back his drink. 

Dan reached out and grasped his mug, his fingers briefly overlapping with Phil’s. Again, Phil didn’t react to their contact, but his hand fell from the handle of Dan’s mug to his ankle. His ankle that was spread all the way across Phil’s lap.

_Was this okay?_

Maybe. Maybe not.

At this point, Dan wasn’t sure where the lines fell.

Well, maybe he had an idea where lines were _supposed_ to fall.

The scary part was, he wasn’t sure how much he cared.

Instead, Dan let his upper body fall forward slightly. Not completely into Phil’s space — not touching his shoulder or anything — but a little bit. Dan was crouched forward, leaning away from the armrest, his head only a few inches from Phil’s shoulder. Without anything better to do, Dan took a long sip from his mug. 

“How about you? How’s your week been?” Dan poked his chin at Phil’s shoulder. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you the past couple of days.”

Phil cocked his head slightly. “You were in the coffeeshop for an hour and a half yesterday,” he said over the brim of his cup before he took another drink.

“I know,” Dan whined. “But you were working and I was trying to fucking finalize the details of my trip to Germany. Tell me how you’ve be _en_.”

Phil chuckled, his arm coming up to rest across the length of his couch as he drank more of his coffee. The tips of his fingers grazed Dan’s shoulder. Despite being hyper aware of the sensation, Dan pretended not to notice. He shoved his mug into his face and took a long drink to cover up the shock that the touch had sent up his spine.

“I’ve been fine. I filmed two collabs this week, which means I’m set with uploading for a while.”

Dan slipped his chin off Phil’s shoulder blade, letting his temple rest on the boney limb instead, allowing himself to take another drink. “Who did you collab with?”

“My friend PJ and his girlfriend. They live down in Brighton but they came to visit for a few days. I filmed a video with each of them for my channel and a video with PJ for his.”

“That’s nice. How long have you known PJ?”

“God,” Phil’s head tipped backwards, and Dan was graced with a perfect view of the long, pale expanse of his neck. ”I think since I was… eighteen, maybe? We met during the first days of youtube and have been best friends ever since.”

“That’s amazing, that youtube brought you good friends.” Unwittingly, Dan’s eyes fell from Phil’s eyes further down his face, landing on his lips. He let himself hover there for a moment before tearing his eyes away, looking everywhere, anywhere, but there. 

_Fuck._

He could definitely feel the alcohol loosening his bones, his mind, his _inhibitions_ at this point. 

He knew he should care. He knew he should straighten up, brush Phil’s fingertips away from his shoulder, put some proper distance between them. 

Instead, he looked for a reason for them to fall closer together. 

His eyes fell on the fancy looking camera on the coffee table in front of him. He lunged forward, sweeping it off the table and falling back onto the couch, his shoulder tucking into the crook of Phil’s arm.

Inspecting the camera, Dan asked, “so is this it? Is this how the magic happens?”

“You make it sound gross when you say it that way, but, yes, that’s what I film with.”

Dan punched a few buttons, trying to figure out how to power it up. The screen lit up after four or five random jabs. Clumsily, Dan held it out in front of them, trying to take a selfie. The camera was heavier than he’d anticipated, though, and he was fairly certain that he ended up taking a picture of their laps, not their faces.

With a high pitched laugh, Phil grabbed the camera from Dan’s hands, using his free hand to pull Dan closer into his side. “If you want a picture, Dan, you just have to ask. Not take a picture of our crotches.”

Against his will, Dan’s cheeks blushed pink. “Shut up. I tried my best, okay?”

Phil laughed again. “Yeah, and this is why I’m the one that works with cameras and you’re the one that works with music.”

Dan poked Phil in the side of his ribs. “Come on, teach me me how it works then.”

The camera made a few _clicking_ noises as Phil played with the buttons. “Here, I put it on auto mode, so really all you have to do is aim and —” Phil placed Dan’s hands on the camera properly, wrapping his large hand over Dan’s fingers. Together, Phil made their fingers press the shutter, camera aimed nowhere in particular.

 _Click_.

The picture flashed up on his screen. It was their laps again, but it wasn’t the awkward shot of their folded hips that Dan had likely accidentally taken earlier. 

It looked more intentional, even though Phil hadn’t put any effort into the camera angle. Dan’s legs had shifted so that now it was his thighs that were splayed across Phil’s. In the corner of the picture, Dan could see the soft curve of his lower torso leaning in towards Phil. It was a nice picture. Gentle.

Relaxed.

“Come here, then,” Dan urged Phil, even though they were plenty close already. “Let’s take a proper photo.” Phil’s arm returned to the back of the couch, his hand landing on Dan’s back. Like earlier, he pulled Dan in close. Now, Dan’s side was nearly flush with Phil’s front. 

Smiling, Dan smushed his cheek against Phil’s and held the camera out in front of him. 

_Click._

He brought the camera back down, turning it so they could both see the picture.

It was cute.

They were close. So close. Their smiles were wide, pulling at the corners of their mouths. Dan’s dimple was out, a deep canyon in his cheek.

It had been awhile since he’d seen it so prominently.

Contently, Dan relaxed further into Phil, letting his chin drop back onto Phil’s bony shoulder. He studied the picture.

“It’s good. You should send it to me.” Dan murmured.

“I will, I’ll upload it later.”

“To twitter?” Dan asked.

“No silly, to the computer. I’m not sure if you want… _that_ on twitter, yeah?”

In the picture, Dan’s legs were clearly draped across Phil, their bodies noticeably as close as possible.

“I guess. I like it though. We look… happy.”

“We do,” Phil agreed, his voice soft. Phil’s hand traced up and down Dan’s spine, so lightly that Dan wondered if he was imagining it. “Are you?”

“Happy?” Dan hummed, chewing over the word. “Yeah. I’m glad we’re actually hanging out. You know, for real.”

“Me too,” A small smile graced Phil’s lips. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

For a moment, Phil didn’t speak and Dan didn’t elaborate. Instead, Dan let his head slip so his forehead laid on Phil’s shoulder, sinking further into his body.

“Well?” Phil prompted eventually.

Dan sighed.

“In some ways.”

“ _Hmm_.” Phil’s fingers were on his back again. Gentle. Affectionate. “How so?”

“This week has been okay. The first few days of working on a song with the whole team are always the hardest. I think I probably annoy everyone with my control freak tendencies, but, I don’t know.”

“I’m sure you don’t. It’s nice — that you’re so passionate about what you do.”

“I suppose. Sometimes I feel like I’m a burden for the record company. I’m like this weird eccentric musician who comes in after weeks of disappearing and freaks out if anyone tries to mess with their music and won’t let anyone change anything. And _god_ tomorrow I have to sit down with the drummer to talk about what I want for the song. And I just — it’s always my least favorite part because it’s the only instrument I don’t know well enough to just _do_ what I want and show him, so it’s just hours of _no, faster, no, slower, now louder_ and it’s infuriating. For all of us.”

Phil was quiet for a moment, seeming to actually contemplate what Dan had said. That was nice — Louise was usually quick to try to resolve his work complaints. _Do you want me to speak with the company? Are they putting too much pressure on you to do what they want? Are you sure the drummer is a good fit?_ And Isabella — well, he rarely talked for this long about himself with Isabella and held her attention.

“I’m sure you’re not a burden. The company — they signed you, yeah? They let you negotiate a contract that gave you complete creative freedom? So sure, maybe things don’t happen the way they are _used_ to them happening, maybe not as fast or _exactly their way_ , but you’ve got such a great track record of creating amazing, unique music and I’m sure whatever you’re working on won’t be an exception.”

Dan’s fingers played with the hole in his jeans. “I’ll feel better about it when everyone knows their piece at least. Then we can play it together for real and — well, I can prove that I’ve done something worthwhile this month.”

Sometime during Dan’s speech, the camera screen had turned dark. He tapped at it and the screen jumped back to life, their faces smiling up brightly at Dan again.

“How about outside of work?” Phil asked, drawing Dan back to the present. He wanted to live inside the fairy tale of the picture.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you happy, outside of work?”

Dan’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. He ignored it.

“In some ways.” 

Beneath his cheek, Dan could feel Phil huff a small laugh. “Is that just your stock answer?”

“Well, it’s true.”

Phil hummed. “Maybe I’m asking the wrong question then. What’s making you not happy?”

“I don’t know.” The words were out of Dan’s mouth immediately, a quick defense. The truth was, Dan had a horrible feeling he knew exactly what the problem in his life was.

“I doubt that,” Phil whispered knowingly.

“How do you know me so well, Phil Lester?”

“That’s beside the point, Dan Howell. Now, what’s making you not happy?”

Dan’s fingers started picking at the fabric of his jeans. He felt his phone vibrate again. “Do I have to say it?” His voice was small, pleading.

Phil was quiet a long moment. “I guess not.”

Dan looked up, wanting to thank Phil for listening, for letting him talk, for letting him _not talk_.

Phil’s face — it was _right there_. His eyes were tender, his hair pushed up off his forehead. 

Dan could imagine leaning in. He could imagine closing the distance between them, pressing his own chapped lips against Phil’s soft looking ones. He could imagine what Phil might be like to kiss — he would probably be just as slow and patient of a kisser as he was a person. Dan could imagine other things, too. He could imagine spending more nights like this, maybe even on his own couch. He could imagine finding the courage to get here, to exist in this moment without the aid of alcohol.

But he coudn’t.

He couldn’t _let_ himself give into those imaginations.

His love life — it was in shambles. He knew it. Louise had pointed it out enough, and he’d finally _felt_ just how much of a wreck it was. But still.

The only way it could get _worse_ was if he leaned in and pressed his lips to Phil’s.

Instead, he reached his hand out, carding it through Phil’s hair. It wasn’t the touch he was craving in that moment, but it was a touch all the same.

“I like your hair like this, brushed up off your face. You should do it more often.” Dan suggested quietly, fiddling with the soft black hair, sweeping further up and back. 

“Yeah?” Phil’s voice was as hushed as Dan’s, not breaking the maudlin mood. “I’ve been thinking about it, giving in to the quiff.”

“You should. Not that you don’t look cute with the fringe. But, with your hair pulled back like this — it brings out your eyes. You look more… mature. In a good way.”

“Maybe I will,” Phil agreed. Dan’s phone went off again, the vibration a loud contrast to how quiet it had become between them. Phil’s eyes flickered down to Dan’s arse, where his phone was tucked, and back up to Dan, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you going to get that?”

“Not right now,” Dan replied, resting his head back on Phil’s shoulder. Dan’s hand fell from Phil’s hair, landing in his lap. 

Whoever was texting him, wanting him, needing him — they could wait. He wanted a bit more of this moment.

Louise was right about a lot of things. She was right when she’d told him he shouldn’t go to law school and should give music a shot. She was right when she’d told him that he’d never be happy singing songs that someone else had written and he needed to do it himself. She was right when she’d told him that he’d needed to quit working shitty jobs and focus on what made him happy.

And she was right now.

She was _right_ that intimacy felt better with someone… good. She was right, because just sitting here, relaxing in Phil’s armsl was better, more satisfying than anything — even sex — was with Isabella.

Dan felt like he was standing at the end of a long, narrow, one way street and he didn’t really know how he’d got there. He knew it was the wrong street, he could even imagine the street he wanted to be on.

He just didn’t know how to _leave_.

The buzzing in Dan’s pocket returned, pulsing in the steady rhythm of a phone call. Reluctantly, he leaned forward a bit, forcing himself to dig it out of the tight pocket of his jeans. 

“Sorry, hang on, jesus,” Dan said, answering the phone call without processing who was ringing.

“There you are Danny!” Isabella’s shrill voice was dripping with forced niceness.

“Izzy — hi,” Dan stammered. 

The calm, warm atmosphere that had settled in the room _snapped_.

 _Fuck_.

“I’m at Nitro and I was hoping you could come meet me, babe.”

Dan’s eyes flickered up to meet Phil’s. They were both a little tipsy — well, okay maybe Dan was more than a little tipsy — but everything about this moment had been perfect. He wasn’t keen to give it up to go to a _club_. This night, this easy evening in with Phil, was exactly what he needed after two weeks of long days in the studio. 

“Thanks for asking, but not tonight.”

“Why not, Danny?” Izzy whined.

“I’m just tired from work, that’s all.” Dan stared down at his drink, not wanting to meet Phil’s eyes. It wasn’t a _lie_ per say — he _was_ tired from work. It just wasn’t so much a physical tired as an emotional tired. And, well, recently he’d started realizing how much emotional energy being around Isabella took sometimes. 

“That’s the third time this week that you’ve blown me off! I can’t —”

“I didn’t blow you off, we didn’t have plans!”

“I am your girlfriend, Danny, you’re supposed to do things with me!”

“We’ve gone to dinner twice this this week already.” Dan could sense where this was going — exactly where half of their conversations since their blow up had gone — another fight. “Can you hang on a sec, Iz?” He didn’t wait for her to respond before pulling the phone away and muttering to Phil, “I’ll be right back, sorry.”

He clambered off of Phil and stepped out of the lounge, toward the kitchen where he’d gotten the drinks earlier in the evening. When he put the phone back to his ear, Isabella was on the edge of screaming.

“Wait, are you seriously telling me you’re _out_ somewhere right now? You’re awake enough to be doing something with someone else but you won’t come meet me at Nitro?”

Dan let his head _thump_ into the wall of Phil’s hallway. _Fuck,_ he should have been more careful and not let her overhear what he’d said to Phil.

“I’m just having a lazy night in, okay, Izzy? I’m really not in the mood to go out tonight.”

“Danny,” Isabella shrieked, “you’re a famous _musician,_ it’s basically part of your job to be seen out at night, being a part of the _music_ scene. Just like it’s part of my job, _as a model_ , to be seen out at clubs. So whatever the _fuck_ you’re doing, you can do it later.”

“NO!” Dan was startled by the ferocity of his own voice. “I’m not coming out tonight, okay?”

“Where are you, Danny?”

“What?” Dan asked, perplexed.

“I asked where you are. Where are you that you can’t come here, _pendejo_?

“I’m, um… at…” Dan debated whether or not he should lie.

Apparently his hesitation was enough to make Isabella suspicious.

“Daniel James Howell, _where are you?_ ” Her voice was venomous.

“I’m not doing anything, I swear.” He tried his best to articulate his words perfectly, to sound as innocent as possible. But he was just sober enough to realize that even over the phone, even when he was trying, he still probably sounded drunk. “I’m just at Phil’s. It’s fine.”

“Phil’s! You’re at _Phil’s_? I thought I told you that you need to spend less time with that _carajo_!”

“He’s not a dick, Isabella! Can you leave him out of this?” His words were definitely slurring now. “Look, I’m not coming out tonight, okay?”

Isabella huffed. Dan could tell she had more to say — there was a full _Isabella de la Renta rant_ brewing. But when she spoke next, the rage had surprisingly dissipated.

“Fine, Danny. If you aren’t going to come out tonight, then the least you can do is talk to the bouncer so he’ll let me into Nitro.”

_What?_

Dan was shocked. Was that why she was so adamant about him coming out tonight? She wanted to use his name to get into a _fucking club?_

Dan took a deep breath in and out. He honestly wasn’t sure what to make of that. For the moment, though, all he wanted was to stop this… small argument from turning into a heated fight. 

“Fine, Izzy. If that’s what will make you happy. Just had the phone over.”

Isabella didn’t respond. 

“Who is this?” A gruff voice barked at Dan.

“Hi, um, this is Dan — Daniel Howell? The musician? I think my girlfriend is there and, well, I can’t make it tonight, but um, do you think you could let her in?”

“Huh,” the bouncer grunted. “Manager says I’m not supposed to let people not on the list in. At least, not if the aren’t famous on their own.”

Dan sighed. Undoubtedly Isabella heard that, and it was only pissing her off more. “Look, you may not know her very well, but she is, um, _famous_. She’s a model? I’m sure if you let her in she’ll be happy to post a picture on instagram or something.”

The bouncer laughed without any real humor. “I don't think that’s good enough.” The man seemed to recognize the power he had in this situation. Isabella must be giving him disgusted looks. 

Dan rolled around so his back was to the wall, and slid down onto his bum. “What will be good enough?”

“You can post a picture online from here. This weekend. And you’d better look like you’re having fun, too.”

“Fine! Fine. Sure, I’ll be there Friday night, okay? You can put me on the list. Now can you please just let my girlfriend in?”

The bouncer didn’t respond to him, but he heard a faint _you’re in, sweetcheeks_. 

Dan’s head fell forward between his knees. _When did things get this fucked up?_

************************

Spending time with Phil was easy. Particularly with new people, Dan always felt like he was fending off questions about his job or his music or what it was like being famous. He’d gotten accustomed to having to dance around details of upcoming music releases. He’d developed stock answers for questions about being famous that were mostly honest but didn’t make him seem like an ungrateful ass ( _Being famous has its drawbacks, but I’m so lucky to be able to make the music I want to for a living._ Or, alternatively, _my fans are all so amazing and they make all the hard work worth it. I couldn’t do it without them._ ).

But Phil. Phil never asked which famous people he knew, or if he had any _hot parties_ on the horizon. He never tried to get Dan to give him a private performance or write a song for him, _just with my name, please?_ Phil didn’t hint that he wanted to meet his famous friends or fish for an invitation to events. Phil never slipped Dan a homemade cd and begged him to ask his record label to listen to it.

Instead, Phil asked about what he liked to do in his free time (scroll through tumblr on his couch) and how he found inspiration for his music (currently, there wasn’t as much as Dan wanted there to be). Phil bonded with him over Studio Ghibli and anime. Phil traded tv and music recommendations and always insisted on fully discussing their impressions the next time Dan came for coffee. 

Talking to Phil was different than talking to Louise. Dan had been best friends with Louise as long as he could remember. She could tell within five seconds if Dan was having a bad day and could see through every lie he’d ever tried to tell her. But also, Louise wouldn’t geek out with him over the newest video game or episode of a show. And since she’d become his manager, they actually _had_ to have conversations (and sometimes disagreements) about work. Louise would always be Dan’s best friend, but something about Phil made Dan hope that he could be that close with another person.

Even though Phil encouraged Dan to bring Louise by the coffee shop, Dan hesitated. Phil wanted to meet her because he thought she sounded hilarious from the stories Dan had told him about their shenanigans. Dan knew the two of them would get along great. Louise would adore Phil’s random knowledge about animals and Phil would love Louise’s blunt and humorous personality. But still, Dan never invited her. Right now, time with Phil was like time spent in a whole separate world — and Dan wasn’t sure he was ready to give that up yet. He knew that Phil would inevitably learn infinitely new, embarrassing stories about him when he met Louise, and he knew that when Louise met Phil — 

Well, he’d rather not think about how Louise would react to their fast, close friendship. She’d rarely been wrong about his relationships with other people, and now wasn’t really a moment he could afford for her to be right.

So, instead, Dan just kept going to the coffee shop for his caffeine fix. He started waking up earlier on Saturdays so he could see Phil before his shift ended. He started coming a bit later on Mondays because Phil tended to come in later on those days because he had morning meetings at the BBC. Catching up with Phil, whether it was for five minutes or two hours, was always the highlight of Dan’s day. So he ignored Louise’s teasing and Isabella’s annoyed complaints and spent enough money and time at Beans and Grind that the owner should build him a statue. 


	9. 9 (7678 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: sorry for the delay on this chapter guys! finals got the best of me and then i immediately went on vacation. i’ll be back to posting once a week now!IMPORTANT: this chapter goes back to the day after Dan and Phil got drunk together, even though the last chapter skipped ahead from Dan’s point of view. I wanted to be able to give Phil’s opinion on situation :)

The morning after Dan came over, Phil woke up to a dull pounding in his temples, a parched mouth, and an array of confused thoughts.

To begin with, Dan had been on his couch the night before — that was new. And was the direct cause of Phil’s confused thoughts. Until now, they’d only seen each other in public, they’d only spent time together at the coffee shop while sipping coffee that had usually gone tepid with time and munching on muffins that Phil often planned not to charge Dan for, but which Dan always paid for anyway.

In a lot ways, their time at Phil’s had been no different than their time at Beans and Grind. They had the same joking dynamic. They teased each other just like they always had. They interrupted their easy banter with the same bits of serious discussions.

But there were some things that were different, too.

In the past, Phil had suspected that Dan was flirting with him. But last night… well, Phil was more than a little suspicious. 

A friend didn’t look at Phil like Dan had looked at him all night. A friend didn’t lay across Phil like Dan had laid across him last night. A friend didn’t imply that Phil made them happier than their significant other like Dan had a few times last night.

_Right?_

With a monumental effort, Phil tried to shake the thoughts from his head. It was all just too confusing to deal with when Phil was already battling a hangover. It was frustrating, really. Both not knowing what last night meant and not having the brain capacity to figure it out right now. He wanted last night to mean _something_ — something more than just their friendship entering new territory. But right now, with his head buried beneath a thick layer of fog, he couldn’t process the events enough to decide what it meant, if it meant anything at all. Reluctantly, he sat up and dug his phone out of his covers. 

_10:45. Well, shit. So much for getting an early start on productivity._

Phil should edit the video he’d been planning to post that night. If he was feeling _really_ on top of it, he should film another video because he always liked to be one ahead. Not to mention, he should really read over the proposition for a brand deal he’d received yesterday. All of those things required thinking clearly, though, which he certainly wasn’t capable of right now. Deciding that there was no point in rushing to get started on his to do list _now_ , Phil threw the covers off and decided to make himself a nice hangover brunch of pancakes. Maybe some eggs would be good, too.

The entire time Phil cooked, he did his best to force Dan out of his mind, but his thoughts relentlessly drifted back to the curly haired, dimpled, _gorgeous_ boy. Images kept flashing in Phil’s mind like a slideshow that he _hadn’t asked for_. 

Dribbling the batter on the counter made Phil think about Dan almost spilling his drink. Holding the spatula made Phil think about Dan’s long fingers wrapped around his camera. Perching on the stool from the breakfast bar made Phil think about Dan nearly sitting in his lap. 

Dan sitting in his lap.

_Fuck._

Dan had been so, _so_ close. No matter how hard Phil tried, he couldn’t erase the image of Dan’s face just inches from his. Having Dan there, tucked into his lap, was so warm. It was comfortable. It had felt _natural_ , as if they had been cuddling like that the entire time they’d known each other. Phil knew he shouldn’t, but he wanted _more_. He wanted to have Dan that close _forever_.Phil had always thought Dan was beautiful, but his eyes, his dimple, his _lips_ had been even more wonderful up close.

_His lips._

Oh god. 

There had been a moment last night when… when Phil had been almost _certain_ Dan was going to kiss him.

That was insane, thinking that Dan might have been so close to cheating on his girlfriend. Dan was better than that — or at least he was in Phil’s biased opinion. Phil couldn’t imagine Dan actually fucking up his relationship like that. 

But still, there’d been that moment. That moment when Phil was so, so sure that Dan might kiss him anyway.

That moment was intoxicating. Much more so than the alcohol had been. Dan had been so close, the tension had been so electric, that Phil almost got caught up. He almost _let go_. He was so, so close to just letting Dan kiss him.

They hadn’t kissed, though. And, honestly, Phil wasn’t sure who got credit for that. He’d like to have said that he wouldn’t have let Dan kiss him, that he would have pulled back if Dan continued to lean in, but. Well. He wasn’t actually sure.

Phil knew, he _knew_ how wrong that was. Regardless of how much he _wanted_ Dan to kiss him. Regardless of how troubled Dan’s relationship with Isabella appeared to be. Regardless of whether _Dan_ wanted to kiss _Phil_ …

It wasn’t right.

Dan was in a relationship, which trumped every single excuse, and Phil had far too high of morals to violate that commitment.

So they hadn’t kissed. One of them, maybe both of them, had pulled away. 

And Phil tried to be happy about that. He really did. Despite all of the alcohol in their system, despite questionably (well, _definitely_ on Phil’s part) flirting for _weeks_ , they’d resisted.

As much as Phil tried to deny it though, a small, morally dubious part of him was a bit disappointed that he hadn’t had the chance to kiss Dan last night. To know what he tasted like. To know if there would be as many sparks when they kissed as when they touched.

Dan was a good person, too, though — Phil would argue that Dan was maybe even a better person than himself. Surely, _surely_ Dan wouldn’t actually almost cheat on his girlfriend? Maybe Phil was imagining the whole thing. Maybe _Phil_ had almost kissed _Dan_ — against Dan’s wishes. 

_Fuck_ , he’d could have ruined everything. He could have completely broken Dan’s trust and lost Dan forever.

Phil didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t want to be _that_ guy, but it was possible it was all in Phil’s head. That Dan didn’t see that moment as an almost kiss. But there was something else that kept running through Phil’s mind, too.

He had _no idea_ if Dan was actually interested in guys.

Sure, Phil was _pretty certain_ Dan was flirting with him, but Phil had never seen Dan interact with any of his other good friends (which, at this point, Phil was almost positive that he and Dan qualified as good friends). It was possible that Dan was just a touchy person. That Dan was simply inclined to saying slightly scandalous, dirty things. That Dan looked at _everyone_ like they were… _special_.

Maybe he hungoff Louise like she was a life raft and said things inappropriate for Darcy’s ears when she wasn’t listening and stared at Louise like the sun shined out of her ass.

Dan definitely looked at Darcy like she was the most precious thing in the world, but that was hardly a useful reference point. 

All of the little things that Dan did with Phil that he’d convinced himself were flirtatious — well, Dan could do those things with _everyone_. That could just be who Dan was. 

Secretly, Phil hoped that wasn’t actually the case. He really, really wanted Dan to like boys, too. He really, really wanted Dan to like _him_. He really, really wanted Dan to only look at _him_ like he was special. And most importantly, he really, really wanted Dan to break up with Isabella.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t.

The butter-drenched pancakes (and the two _giant_ glasses of water) Phil made ended up helping his hangover a bit, but they didn’t quell the rampant confusion in his head. Phil knew the only way his mind was going to calm down was if he talked through his thoughts with someone.

But first, he needed coffee. Still somewhat groggy, Phil filled the kettle and flipped it on. While he waited for the water to boil, Phil riffled through the cabinet, searching for something to dull the persistent ache in his head. His fingers wrapped around the paracetamol bottle. _That’ll do._

Dumping a few pills into his hand (okay, one more than the recommended dosage, he was _desperate_ ), Phil then poured the boiling water into a mug, and added a few spoonfuls of shitty instant coffee. He tested the temperature of the drink with the tip of his tongue, and, upon realizing it was much too hot to drink yet, he popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed the medicine dry.

Heading into the lounge, Phil balanced his mug on the arm of the sofa, grabbed his laptop, and plopped down. As his computer booted up, he texted PJ, figuring his best friend had woken up at a reasonable time, unlike Phil.

 _Phil:_ Hey peej, are you around to skype?

 _PJ:_ Sure, now?

 _Phil_ : Please, if you don’t mind.

Phil signed onto skype the moment his computer was turned on, anxiously awaiting PJ — he was a good friend, who had clearly dropped whatever he was doing to talk to Phil because the blue icon next to PJ’s name lit up just seconds after Phil signed on. Without giving PJ anymore warning or time to settle in, Phil pressed the call button.

“Hey Peej, how are you?” 

“I’m good, you?”

Phil shook the bottle of paracetamol that he’d brought with him ( _just in case_ ) and held up his water. Much to his distaste, PJ let out a boisterous laugh. 

“Sick or hungover?”

Phil sent him an unamused look. “Hungover, don’t judge me mate. Listen, the older you get, the worse the hangovers get you.”

PJ chuckled again, the sound beating at Phil’s head. “I’m sure they do, mate. What’d you do last night?”

Phil sighed. He guessed they were jumping straight into what Phil wanted to talk about then. It was a good thing that Phil had been keeping PJ up to date on everything that had been happening with Dan.

“Dan.”

PJ’s eyebrows shot up. “You _did_ Dan last night?”

“Oh!” Phil’s eyes widened when he realized how he’d phrased it. “No — no. I just mean I was _with_ Dan, not that we — um, did anything.” Phil added a muttered _unfortunately_ under his breath, but if the smirk on PJ’s face was anything to go by, it had been loud enough for PJ to hear.

“Alright then, what did you and Dan do if it wasn’t _sex_?” PJ’s eyebrows waggled suggestively. Phil rolled his eyes.

“He just came over and we got more than a little tipsy on spiked coffee.”

“ _Just_ came over?” PJ’s tone was disbelieving. “You’ve never exactly done that before, sounds like progress to me. Maybe this is actually going somewhere, mate.” PJ smiled coyly and sent Phil a wink.

“Well, see, that’s the thing.” Phil fiddled with his mug of coffee, trying to make his tone belie the severity of the current predicament. “I could swear he was… _flirting_ with me, and he talked about the fact that he wasn’t so happy with Isabella. You know, his _girlfriend_. Or at least, I think she’s what he was alluding to. He wasn’t really… direct about it.”

“Hmm,” PJ murmured, frowning. “What do you mean?” The teasing was gone, now. PJ seemed to have finally caught on to the fact that Phil thought something wasn’t quite _right_ about the situation. 

“Like,” Phil addressed his mug instead of his computer screen. “He didn’t seem… happy. So I asked. If he was happy, I mean. And he said… well, he said he wasn’t happy in some ways. Which… I just want him to be happy? Entirely? Whatever that means.”

PJ nodded, staring at Phil contemplatively. “Did you ask him why he isn’t?

“Yeah, and he — he was somehow incredibly vague and very pointed at the same time. I asked him what in particular was making him not happy and he was quiet for ages, and eventually said _do I have to say it?_ ”

“And you think he was talking about Isabella?” 

“I’m almost positive. He’s been insinuating a lot of things about her, lately. About them not… I don’t know, working, I guess? And then there was this moment right after that where — _fuck_.” Phil felt a blush rise to his cheeks. Cursing in front of the camera — even though it was just skype with PJ — felt wrong. “I swear to god I thought he was going to kiss me. I thought… I don’t know. That he might just… give in. To whatever this tension between us is. He was _right there,_ and his eyes were doing that thing where they kept flickering from my eyes to my lips and…” Phil trailed off.

“And what, Phil?” PJ prompted. He wasn’t impatient, just encouraging.

Phil heaved a deep sigh before continuing.

“I wanted him to. And that’s so _shit_ , that’s so _fucked up_. Because he’s in a relationship — and has been for almost a _year_. And cheating is so, _so_ fucking wrong. But there’s a part of me — a bigger part than I want to admit — that really, really wanted him to kiss me. And that sucks. Because not only do I never want to support cheating, but even more than that — if I were to _get_ Dan, that’s not how I would want him. I don’t want to be the other person.”

PJ nodded along quietly. “I know. I know that’s not who you are.”

Relieved, Phil’s shoulders relaxed at PJ’s response. They had known each other for years at this point, and Phil was sure there was nothing PJ could do to make Phil think he was a bad person. Phil hoped PJ felt the same about him. Deep down, Phil knew he probably did. But Phil also knew these selfish feelings he was having weren’t his finest moment and, well, he was nervous about PJ’s reaction.

“There’s something else, too.”

“What?” PJ asked, voice gentle.

“I don’t know if he’s even into guys.”

PJ burst into laughter, taking Phil by surprise. PJ was shaking his head affectionately, rolling his eyes at Phil as if he thought Phil was an idiot. “You don’t think he’s into guys? You’re concerned he was going to cheat on his girlfriend by kissing you, you think his hands loitered when he adjusted your shirt, you think he’s been flirting with you for weeks, but you’re still questioning if he likes boys?”

Phil should have known when he confided in PJ that the information would inevitably be held over his head as teasing material.

“Er, yeah?” Phil shrugged, not fully understanding PJ’s point.

“You’re a twat, Phil.”

“No, _listen_! There’s _nothing_ online that suggests he does. What if I’m just projecting my feelings onto him? Even if he isn’t happy with Isabella, that doesn’t mean he’s _into me_.”

“Phil, do I really need to remind you that for the better part of a decade there was no trace of you liking boys online?”

“That’s different,” Phil replied petulantly.

“How?”

“I get to carefully control what I show because I’m the one who makes those choices. And sure, a lot of the information about Dan comes from his twitter and instagram and interviews, but just as much of it comes from other people and gossip magazines. I can’t imagine that he could keep dating guys secret.”

“First off,” PJ said. “I never said anything about _dating_ guys. If he’s just _interested,_ but not actively dating, he could take that secret to his grave, regardless of the media. Second of all, if he _is_ dating guys, there are ways for it to not get out to the media. _You_ know. You’ve had people sign nondisclosure agreements.”

Phil shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. But still. I’m just… not _convinced_ he was flirting, I guess?”

“Okay,” PJ said patiently, taking a sip of his own coffee. “So other than this _almost a kiss_ thing, walk me through what happened last night and what makes you think he was flirting with you, and why you _apparently_ think he might not be.”

Phil was quiet for a long moment, trying his best to compile his thoughts. Much to his annoyance, Phil’s brain felt like it was stuck in a haze, and he couldn’t quite manage to step back and think about things objectively. But that was why he’d called PJ, Phil supposed.

“Well,” Phil started uncertainly. “I know I’ve told you our banter has always seemed pretty flirty, but the flirtiness seemed so much _more_ when we were drunk. Like, everything he said, every face he made, his tone — it felt even _more_ flirty. Like his voice… it was lighter somehow? More teasing sometimes? And his jokes, they were definitely more risque. But his body language, that might have been the biggest sign.”

PJ looked properly interested now.

“What’d he do?”

“When I came into the room after making drinks, he was all sprawled out across the couch, and I told him to budge up so I could sit too. And he curled up, right? But when I sat down, he let his feet stretch back out until his toes were just _inches_ from my thigh.” Phil stared at PJ imploringly at this bit of information, hoping that PJ would see the signs too. PJ’s eyes were narrowed, though, and he looked skeptical at best.

“Phil, I love you and I’m rooting for you two, but that just sounds like he wanted to be comfortable. Please tell me there’s more than just that.” 

Phil bit his lip. He _knew_ there was a chance that this was all in his head — he’d doubted himself all morning. But he also knew that Dan resting his feet _close_ to Phil’s legs was just the tip of the iceberg. Dan had done so much _more_ to make Phil question if last night had been entirely… platonic. 

“Look, I know. I thought that too at first. But after a few minutes, he actually tucked them _under_ my legs.”

PJ nodded and shrugged, silently conceding his point. He didn’t look quite convinced, but he didn’t look as skeptical as he had before, either. “Alright. What else?”

“Later, he got up and refilled our drinks, right? And when he came back, he handed both mugs to me and I was just like, okay sure, he wants me to hold them so he can sit. Whatever. But then he sat down and swung his legs _across my lap_.” 

Finally PJ’s eyebrows shot up like Phil wanted them to. PJ looked as surprised as Phil had felt when Dan had lounged across him. Satisfied, Phil slumped back against the couch cushions, letting out a small sigh. Explaining Dan’s early actions was the easy part, now he had to explain… everything else that they had both done. 

He was a bit chagrined about what he had to say next. It had felt good in the moment — everything had felt right in the moment. But looking back, Phil knew that some of his actions were questionable at best. 

“And so I tested the waters a little, because at that point I was a little tipsy and reckless and — god, I don’t know. I’m so into this kid.”

“What did you do, Philip?” PJ sounded appropriately wary. 

“Nothing _serious_ ,” Phil said defensively. “I just kind of, like, stretched my arm across the back of the couch and let my fingers fall on his shoulder? Which he didn’t seem to mind. Or rather, he didn’t even seem to _notice_.” Phil paused, thinking back to last night, trying to push through his own muddled thoughts. Dan hadn’t reacted, but did that mean he didn’t notice, or was he trying to appear as nonchalant and unphased as Phil had acted when Dan had first touched Phil?

“And then somehow, it got even flirtier,” Phil added, feeling a bit more confident in his analysis of the situation.

“It got flitier than him lounging with his legs sprawled across your lap and your fingers caressing his shoulder?” PJ deadpanned.

“Yes? I think so?” Phil responded hesitantly, now more concerned about the smug look on PJ’s face than the fear that he’d come to the wrong conclusion. “My camera was on the table and he tried to take a selfie, but he had no idea what he was doing, so I showed him. But I didn’t take the camera out of his hands, I just kind of… wrapped my hands around his on the camera and… _fuck_ — that’s not the point.” Phil groaned, shaking his head and trying to pull his thoughts away from that charged moment.. 

PJ didn’t bother to hide his amusement, laughter bubbling under his breath and eyes twinkling with mirth. 

“So he figures out how to work the camera, right?” Phil continues when he’s got his head clear. “And he leans in so we can take a picture. And again, remember I’m kinda, sorta, incredibly drunk at this point, I wrapped my arm around his back and pulled him in closer until suddenly his bum was pressed against my side and then his thighs were draped across my lap instead of his calves and he was just _so close,_ PJ. He was so close.”

“Jesus, Phil. Is that even _flirting_? That just sounds like _making a proper move_. What were you thinking?”

“I know, I know.” Phil agreed, eyes wide and voice slightly panicked. “I _wasn’t_ thinking, okay? I was _drunk_ , and Dan had been flirting so much that I just… couldn’t help myself. But it wasn’t just me. After he took the picture, he didn’t move away.”

PJ’s eyebrows creased together. “Okay. What _did_ he do?”

“He just kind of stared at the picture and ended up resting his head on my shoulder?”

PJ stared at Phil blankly. Phil took a long sip of his coffee to avoid having to continue meeting PJ’s dumbfounded look. The silence stretched on, or at least it _felt_ like it did, while Phil waited for a response.

“Okay, let me see this damn picture,” PJ finally said, shaking his head, a bit too eager for Phil’s comfort.

Suddenly, a light clicked on in Phil’s head as he realized what PJ was doing. PJ didn’t doubt that Dan was flirting — hadn’t ever doubted it if his past hinting was anything to go by. But he _was_ trying to get Phil to lay out all the evidence and feel confident about his interpretation of Dan’s behavior.

With more conviction, Phil pulled the memory card out of his camera and stuck it in the slot in his computer. The card was almost empty, so the picture was easy to find. Phil dragged the picture to his desktop, and then to the chat with PJ.

Before he could stop himself, Phil dropped this picture into his DM conversation with Dan as well, which was pathetically already opened.

It took a moment for PJ to fully take in the picture, if his expression was anything to go by. Not that Phil could blame him. It was certainly… a lot.

“Jesus, Phil.” PJ muttered. “You weren’t kidding when you said he was practically in your lap.”

“I know. I... can you just tell me what you think? Your honest opinion?” Phil asked desperately, ruffling his hand through his hair.

“Of this picture, or of you and Dan?”

Phil shrugged, not sure which he was looking for advice on— or if they were really separate issues. “Either, both. Whatever.”

PJ sighed and was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, he sounded resigned. “I think you look like two drunk boys who are completely enamoured with each other.”

Phil buried his eyes in the hand that wasn’t holding his coffee, slowly dragging his fingers down his face. “I think so, too. Or I _want_ to think so too, at least. _Fuck_.”

PJ chuckled. “This boy has you cursing even more than usual, you must have it bad. What would AmazingPhil think?”

Phil shot PJ an unamused look. “Kiss my ass, you dick.”

Still laughing, PJ held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I’m sure your dirty mouth has absolutely nothing to do with your totally reasonable feelings for the guy.”

Instead of retaliating, Phil groaned, biting back his humiliation at how easily PJ was seeing straight through him.

“You’re right, though. I’m way too far gone.” Phil admitted. “What the _hell_ am I supposed to do?”

PJ studied Phil carefully, contemplating Phil’s question. Even though Phil had just been whining in frustration, he appreciated PJ giving his question proper thought. If ever there was a moment when Phil needed advice, this was it.

“Well,” PJ said after a few minutes of silence. “I’m not sure how many choices you really have here, mate. Not choices that keep your morals intact anyway. You _could_ tell him your feelings, you _could_ make a move, you _could_ try to break him and Isabella up, but I don’t see you being comfortable with any of that.” Phil nodded in agreement — there was no way he’d be able to sleep at night if he did any of those things, regardless of the outcome. PJ motioned vaguely at Phil. “See, mate, like I said. Very few options. The way I see it, you’ve only got two.”

“That’s better than one, I guess.” Phil sighed. “Let’s hear them.”

“One, you continue on as things are. Let him be responsible for his actions, and you be responsible for yours.”

“Do nothing,” Phil added apathetically. 

“Right.”

“Or?” Phil asked, a twinge of defeat in his voice.

PJ stared at Phil sympathetically, making Phil worry over what he was going to say next.

“Abort. Pull back. Distance yourself. If being close to him is messing with your head, or you feel guilty about Isabella, maybe stepping back is something to consider.”

Phil wasn’t sure what he’d expected PJ to propose as a second option, but it wasn’t that. The mere suggestion of going back to a more casual relationship with Dan caused Phil’s heart to race and knots to form in his stomach — partially because it made him panic that he really _was_ guilty of something and partially… 

Well, partially because the idea of distancing himself from Dan even one metaphorical centimeter was agonizing.

******************************

After PJ hung up, thoughts of Dan plagued Phil’s head as he edited, as he cleaned, and as he got ready for bed. He avoided the internet entirely so that he would feel less weird about not getting on twitter. He told himself he was avoiding the entire world wide web, not just Dan. 

But even he couldn’t convince himself of that.

By the time Phil was waking up for his opening shift at Beans and Grind the next morning, he’d come to a decision. It wasn’t necessarily a decision he was _thrilled_ about, but after everything PJ had said, Phil was at least somewhat sure that it was the _right_ decision.

He needed to distance himself from Dan.

At least somewhat.

It sucked. Phil knew he couldn’t completely jump ship on his friendship with Dan. So long as Phil was working at Beans and Grind, and Dan kept coming, there was no chance that Phil could just _not see_ Dan. And Phil knew that if he was seeing Dan — in any capacity, even as a barista — then Phil was _incapable_ of not being friendly. 

But every time that Dan came into the coffee shop, Phil could feel himself falling a little bit harder.

And he needed to protect himself.

So, no, Phil wasn’t going to stop seeing Dan. He wasn’t going to stop being friendly with Dan. But the joking around on twitter, the flirting, the unnecessary touching… all of that needed to stop. From now on, Phil resolved, he wasn’t going to actively seek out conversations with Dan or try to get Dan to stick around Beans and Grind for longer. Phil was determined to just let Dan… be Dan. Just let Dan come into the coffee shop when he did, leave when he did, talk when he did. No encouragement from Phil.

It was a good plan.

A good plan that was immediately tested when Phil got to work that morning.

From halfway down the block, Phil could see a figure huddled in on the stoop of the shop. He felt bad for them — it was far too cold to be stuck outside, and they were probably a homeless person trying to keep warm and out of the wind. 

Phil felt for his wallet, trying to think if he had any cash on him. He didn’t. But, Phil thought, he could offer the person a muffin or two — the store usually had a few left over from the previous day that they weren’t supposed to sell anyway.

But as he got closer, Phil realized that the figure in the doorway wasn’t a homeless person. It was a very familiar, tall, lanky lump of black material and curls.

“Hey, Phil,” Dan said, his voice small, when Phil was close enough to speak to.

“Hi, Dan,” Phil responded as he dug his keys to the shop out of his pocket. “You’re here early.” He fought to keep his voice as disinterested, but still cordial as possible.

“Yeah, I, uh, wanted to talk to you.” Dan took a sip out of the coffee cup he already had in his hand.

Phil stilled, halfway through unlocking the door, and turned to look properly at Dan. Not only was he clutching a large cup from Starbucks, but he looked absolutely _exhausted_. There were deep, dark bags under his eyes, the whites of which were tinged red. His curls were messier than usual — while Phil was biased and _always_ thought Dan looked gorgeous, Phil knew that his hair objectively looked like a bird had tried to make a nest of it. As Phil took in every sign of increasing distress, he felt his willpower crumbing bit by bit.

Wordlessly, Phil finished unlocking the door and flicked the light on. Dan followed him inside like a puppy dog, slinking over to the counter and settling down on a stool while Phil put his belongings in the staff area. When Phil came back out, Dan was engrossed on his phone.

In an effort to maintain at least _some_ of his resolution, Phil didn’t say anything. If Dan wanted something — which he clearly did — he was going to have to be the person to start talking first. It didn’t matter if Phil’s heart was aching for him to help Dan through whatever was bothering him — Phil _needed_ to distance himself.

Phil didn’t have to wait long. The silence only stretched for a minute before Dan locked his phone and looked up at Phil.

“So, uh, have you been online in the last twenty four hours?”

Phil narrowed his eyes, studying Dan. That was a weird question. Had Dan noticed Phil’s absence on twitter? Had someone important died that Phil should have reacted to? What could Phil have possibly missed in such a short period of time?

But even more confusing than the question was Dan’s tone of voice.

It was precise, and had the pacing of someone who was taking great care to appear neutral.

Clearly, it wasn’t a random question.

“Er, no, actually,” Phil responded. He felt pressured to appear as faux casual as Dan, so he busied himself with turning on the machines and getting everything ready for service. “I’ve been on an internet break,” Phil continued. “Why? Did I miss something?”

“Oh.” Dan’s forced expression melted a bit. He looked almost… relieved? “So you haven’t been on twitter?”

Phil dropped the towel he was holding. “No,” he said warily. “I haven’t been on twitter. What’s happened?”

 _“Fuck,”_ Dan muttered beneath his breath. “It’s probably for the best actually. Better to just… show you, I guess.”

“Dan, you’re beginning to worry me a little.” Phil abandoned his tasks and marched over to stand in front of Dan.

“Sorry, shit, hang on.” Dan unlocked his phone and clicked around a few times before holding it out to Phil. Phil reached to take it, but Dan pulled it back at the last second. “Wait, you have to promise not to look down at any of the comments yet. Just — just look at the picture for now, okay?”

Phil nodded, making a grabby motion for the phone. Dan shoved the phone in Phil’s hand, but looked a bit reluctant to do so. Tentatively, Phil looked down at the phone. 

At first, Phil wasn’t sure what he was looking at. The picture was dark — really dark. But then Phil figured out what it was. The picture was taken in a dark night club, the people were illuminated mostly by green and pink lights. Slightly out of focus was Isabella — a very intoxicated Isabella. A very intoxicated Isabella hanging off of two very, very fit guys.

“When is this from?” Phil asked before he could help himself. It wasn’t the right question, but too late now.

“The night before last,” Dan answered. 

“So when she had you get her into that club and you were…” Phil trailed off.

“At yours, yeah.” 

For a moment, the room was silent, tense. Phil didn’t know what to say, or how to react to this. All he knew was that Isabella looked a little… too interested in those two men for someone who was in a relationship. 

“Do you, um, know if it… means anything?” Phil asked tentatively.

Dan shook his head. “She’s out of town — in a different time zone. We haven’t had the time to talk really. She texted, told me not to worry, but…” Dan didn’t sound convinced.

“So what are you… going to do?” Phil asked. As terrible as it was, Phil felt a flicker of hope burn in his stomach. It was shitty, he was almost _hoping_ for Dan to have been cheated on and his relationship to come to a crashing end. 

This was exactly why Phil needed to distance himself.

Dan shrugged, looking preoccupied. “That’s not all,” he said, not answering Phil’s question. Dan motioned for his phone back and tapped around a few more times. He dithered with the phone, shifting it back and forth between his hands a few times, before sighing and looking at Phil. “Look, I’m sorry about this, I should have asked you first. I was a few drinks in, not that that’s an excuse. I probably shouldn’t have done it in general, really. It’s only causing problems. For me anyway. I don’t know about you. I just — fuck — here.” 

Dan slid his phone back towards Phil. Phil wasn’t sure what he should be preparing himself for, but he picked up the phone. Again, it was opened to twitter, but this time it was a tweet from Dan that was on the screen. There were no words, just a coffee emoji and a martini glass emoji. 

And a picture.

The picture Dan had taken with Phil’s camera.

It was cropped. Some. Not much, though. Dan had zoomed in so that the picture mostly just had their faces in it. The way it was cropped, Phil couldn’t tell that Dan was practically in his lap, but it was _painfully_ obvious how close they were. Dan’s cheek was pressed against his, and their eyes were sparkling with drunk merriment. It was a good picture.

But it was an intimate picture.

And it was out there on twitter for the world — and Isabella — to see. 

Phil wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, maybe Dan posting this picture was a sign that he was getting sick of his relationship, that he was considering finally getting the _fuck_ out of it. But, on the other hand, Phil couldn’t silence the nagging voice in his head that was reminding him that Dan very well could have posted this picture just to get back at Isabella. Just to prove to her — and the world, maybe — that he was popular with other people, too. That he had options. 

Even if the world didn’t know if Dan was interested in guys, there was an undeniable message carried by this picture.

Dan could cheat, too.

“Are you guys going to be okay?” Phil asked, forcing his voice to be even and not show his conflicting emotions of hope and annoyance.

Dan shrugged — he seemed to be doing that a lot this morning. 

“Has she seen this picture?” Phil tried again, his annoyance at Dan’s lack of communication overtaking his hope that Dan’s bold move meant something more than just retaliation. 

This time, Dan responded with a curt nod.

“And…?” Phil prompted. He was beginning to get properly pissed off — Dan was the one who’d brought this up in the first place, and now he was being completely uncommunicative and offering no explanation for posting this picture.

“She hasn’t said anything. She liked it, which I’m sure was her way of saying _we’ll talk about this later_.”

Phil’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to piece together the snippets he was getting from Dan and what he knew about Isabella. He didn’t appreciate that Dan was making him work so hard to figure out what the _hell_ was going on. “And you think she’ll be angry? About this picture?”

Phil had a pretty good suspicion that she would be, but he wasn’t sure it could compare to his frustration. He didn’t _really_ give a fuck that Dan had posted the picture without asking him — sure, he was normally a bit more private about his… personal life, but whatever. Phil was, however, _livid_ at the reason Dan probably posted it — and, more importantly, that Dan wouldn’t just fess up to his motives.

“Angry?” Dan chuckled, a cold echo of his normal boisterous laughter. “It may be cropped, but it’s still the same damn cuddly, drunken selfie we took, Phil.”

Phil looked back down at the picture on Dan’s phone. He was right — it was cuddly, and between the emojis and the slightly unfocused look in their eyes, it was fairly obvious that they were drunk. And like PJ had said, they looked completely enamoured with each other.

“Do you think you’ll break up with her?” Phil asked quietly, not sure if it was a question he was _allowed_ to ask. It was definitely a question that didn’t fit with his new resolution to separate himself from Dan. 

“Jesus, I don’t fucking know, Phil.” Phil flinched back at Dan’s harsh tone. Dan either didn’t notice or didn’t care about Phil’s reaction, and continued on. “What’s it matter to you?”

“What’s it matter to me?” Phil’s rage came flooding back. “Gee, I don’t know. You’re using a picture with me — a picture we’d already agreed wasn’t suited for the public — to fucking get back at your girlfriend or something. Did you think about the fact that maybe I don’t want to be used like that? Or have my followers think that I’m —” Phil grappled for the words. “— that I’m _encouraging_ this behavior?”

Dan’s eyes narrowed. “What behavior?”

Phil opened his mouth, hesitating.

“What behavior, Phil?” Dan voice was low, dangerous. Daring Phil to say it.

“Doing things that make it look like you’re cheating on your girlfriend. Cuddling up to someone else and getting drunk and —”

“Aren’t you, though?” Dan still sounded challenging, but there was something else to his voice, too. Something more timid and worried. “It’s not all in my head, right? You didn’t push me back, you didn’t tell me to stop. You — you — _you_ pulled me closer.”

Heat flooded into Phil’s cheeks. Dan wasn’t wrong, Phil knew he wasn’t wrong. And for the first time, Phil felt like Dan might be just as confused, just as invested in this as Phil was. 

“What do you want, Dan?” Phil asked, feeling hollow. Defeated.

Dan studied his hands. “I don’t know.”

“Well, talk to me,” Phil urged. “Try to figure it out.”

Dan buried his head in his arms. “Fuck, Phil. I told you. I don’t know. Do I really have to talk about it?” 

Phil’s hands shook with anger.

“You’re the one who showed up before opening to talk to _me_ , Daniel! But you can do whatever the fuck you want.” Phil snapped, dropping Dan’s phone a bit more roughly than was probably safe.

Dan flinched away from Phil, looking taken aback. Phil turned on his heel, perfectly intent on going back to his work, not wanting so much as _look_ at Dan right now. 

“Sorry, yeah, you’re right. I’m being a dick.” Dan said, snatching his phone off the counter, and sounding far more agonized than he had any right to be. “I’ll get out of your hair, sorry for ruining your morning.”

As furious as Phil was, as dismayed as he was that him and Dan may not be on the same page after all, it was difficult to see Dan in misery. Phil may have been miffed about the mixed signals he was getting from Dan, and he may have decided that a bit of distance was the right option but… he also couldn’t just let Dan suffer alone.

Phil’s mind spun, trying to weigh the consequences of the different paths in front of him. 

“Wait, Dan—” Phil called without the consent of his brain. Dan froze halfway to the door. Phil couldn’t believe he was saying this, but, “It’s fine, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. We can just… hang out if you’d prefer.” The words tumbled from Phil’s mouth with a defeated sigh, but as he looked at Dan, he saw the tension melt from his shoulders and his eyes light up hopefully. It was difficult to regret the offer when Dan looked so grateful.

“Really?” Dan asked.

Phil sat a scone on the counter as a peace offering. “Really, really.”

Dan met Phil’s gaze, eyes flickering down to plate on the counter and back up to Phil. A shy, relieved smile pulled at his lips.

Dan walked back, settling himself on the stool across from Phil and breaking a bite off of the pastry before holding it out for Phil to take some. “Thanks,” Dan smiled, “I just really need you as a friend right now.”

 _Friend_.

The word twisted in Phil’s stomach like a knife. 

But it was true. That’s what they were. 

If Phil really wanted to, if he was stronger, if he _tried_ , he could distance himself from Dan. Phil could make it so that he never had to endure the crushing blow of hearing Dan calling Phil a _friend_ again. Phil could make it so that he never had to worry about what Dan wanted from him, what Dan might be running from, again.

But Phil didn’t really want to. He was weak and he wasn’t willing to _try_. Because at the end of the day, being Dan’s friend was better than being Dan’s _nothing_. In that moment, Phil realized that he was completely and utterly _fucked_. Phil knew that whatever Dan was willing to offer him — whether it was five minute chats while Phil made his coffee or drunken nights at Phil’s — Phil was going to take it. 

And just like that, Phil’s resolve shattered.

********************************

In the coming weeks, Phil set a new resolution: Phil was going to take every single drop of Dan that he was allowed.

Surprisingly, he was allowed a lot of Dan. From social media, Phil knew that Dan and Isabella hadn’t broken up, but Dan seemed to have arranged his work schedule to fit around when he was able to hang out with _Phil_ , not Isabella. Dan never came in for less than an hour anymore, insisting that everyone at the studio was fine with getting a later start to the day and working into the evening (Phil wasn’t sure how much he believed that, but he wasn’t prepared to call Dan out on it). Since the day Dan had tweeted the picture of them, he hadn’t missed a single one of Phil’s shifts, either. And on the days Phil didn’t work, they spent a lot of time on twitter — both publicly tweeting at each other and exchanging hundreds and hundreds of direct messages.

Dan had completely weaseled his way into Phil’s life. Dan was one of the most caring, passionate, and genuinely interesting people Phil had ever known. He was smart and witty and always seemed to desperately want to make everyone around him happy. Dan was everything Phil had ever wanted in a friend, in a partner. Dan was more than Phil ever thought was _possible_.

Dan understood the trials and tribulations of being in the public eye, but he wasn’t vain and vapid like so many people Phil had met. Dan always fought for what he thought was right, and chose his words carefully when he did so. Dan cared about Phil, and seemed determined to get to know him better. Everything Dan did, everything Dan said, radiated authenticity and fascination.

Every time Phil talked to Dan, Phil found himself wanting _more, more more_. 

So Phil let himself take it. He let himself ask all the questions he wanted to ask and drop all the flirty comments he wanted to drop and stare all he wanted to stare.

He _took_ and _took_ and _took_.

And, against his better judgment, Phil let himself _fall_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: look, this chapter would have been complete and utter shit without the support of  
> [ auroraphilealis ](http://www.auroraphilealis.tumblr.com). at one point I was like “look babe, i’m just accepting that this chapter is going to be MAYBE 5k when editing is done” and she is a lovely lovely human and kept pushing and it ended up at 7.6k and i’m really happy with what it turned into. thanks boo <3 
> 
>  
> 
> [ like and reblog on tumblr ](http://imnotinclinedtomaturity.tumblr.com/post/173801948245/love-yourself-chapter-9)


	10. 10 (7306)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, idk what happened okay. i sat down to write a DIFFERENT CHAPTER and started writing a summary version of this event and then decided to write the thing and then... it spiraled and now it's three am and i'm dropping 7k on a day i hadn't planned to upload. don't get used to updates THIS fast, okay? and send elizajane love for pushing me to stay up and edit until THREE AM.

Dan strummed a few chords on his guitar, trying to figure out what should come next. All night, he’d been attempting to capture the idea he had a for a new song while the inspiration was still there. It was hard because he knew the _mood_ he wanted to capture — the dark richness of coffee and the sometimes quiet, sometimes loud comfort of someone important — but he didn’t know the _content_. Dan couldn’t figure out how explicit he wanted to be in the song and, as a result, all he’d written so far he was a melody and no words.

_Ugh._

Frustrated, Dan rubbed his hands down his face. He really should have more than just a few chords done tonight. Louise was pressuring Dan to write at least _half_ an album’s worth of songs before he left for Germany, which was almost exactly a month away.

He really needed to get some work done tonight. He’d been… distracted, the past couple of weeks, and he was sure to be distracted tomorrow.

Isabella was coming home _specifically_ because it was Valentine’s Day, and their relationship was already rocky enough — he certainly didn’t need to make things worse by having to work.In fact, having Isabella around… kind of ruined Dan’s entire workflow. 

Somewhat mercifully, Isabella had only been home a handful of days since Dan had gotten drunk at Phil’s and, maybe more notably, since the pictures of her hanging off of several guys at the club had leaked.

They’d talked it over both in person and on the phone a few times, and had both agreed that they’d done some shitty things. Isabella was still _furious_ about the picture Dan had posted with Phil, and while Dan felt bad about it, he felt even worse about what Isabella didn’t know: about how close he’d been to Phil all night, about how he’d practically sat in Phil’s lap and flirted _far_ more than necessary, about how Dan had nearly _kissed him_. 

But, also, Dan was still _livid_ that Isabella had essentially used him to get into a club just to flirt with other guys in revenge for Dan not going with her. She’d grovelled, telling him that it wasn’t like that, that they were _just friends_ , that they were _model recruits_ , that they were _cabrones_. Dan had heard half a dozen excuses about who the men were and, honestly, he wasn’t sure he believed any of them.

But they’d both treated each other like shit that night (and the next day, in Dan’s case), and Dan felt guilty. Isabella felt guilty. It was a bit of a mess, really.

At Isabella’s suggestion, they’d decided to put the events behind them and move on. 

Ever since then, the few times Isabella had been in town and not busy with photoshoots, they’d been to dinner and drinks, and everything _seemed_ fine. Or tolerable, at least. Isabella had invited Dan to her flat a few times as well. Mostly, Dan searched for reasons to avoid having to go, but he did go once.

And just like he’d thought, Isabella had only had one thing in mind when she’d invited him over. 

Until recently, Dan had _loved_ having sex with Isabella — so much so that it was pathetically one of the motivating factors for being in this relationship for so long. But that night he’d realized… he’d realized that he didn’t _want_ to have sex with her.

Not only did _Dan_ not want to have sex with her, but his dick didn’t seem to want to either. He’d tried. He’d tried his best to both physically and mentally get into it, but it wasn’t happening. Eventually, he’d given up, blaming it on the gin he’d been drinking, and got a car home.

Dan wasn’t sure Isabella had believed him, but she’d let him go. 

The vibration of his phone on the table pulled Dan out of his thoughts. Glancing down, Dan saw that Phil had tweeted. Dan grinned at his phone. He’d only heard from Phil earlier that morning, and that was just a brief DM.

 _@AmazingPhil:_ My creative process isn’t always pretty [picture]

Attached was a picture of Phil’s laptop on his coffee table, opened to a video editing program; Phil was on screen, poking his head around a book. Three coffee mugs were visible on the table, along with an open packet of gummy bears and what looked like crisp crumbs scattered across the table. Given what Dan had learned about Phil, and the hour of the evening, Dan was willing to bet that one of those mugs contained something stronger than coffee — not that Phil would ever disclose something like that to his followers.

Dan, on the other hand, had no problem with admitting to his fans that he didn’t _only_ drink coffee while being productive late at night. 

Smirking, Dan opened the camera app on his phone. He angled himself so that the side table with the glass of red wine, coffee mug, and popcorn were visible behind him, and pulled his guitar up so that he could just peek his eyes over the base of it, trying to mimic Phil’s facial expression in the video he was editing. Dan snapped a couple of pictures, screwing up his face in different renditions of Phil’s expression, trying to get the best one possible.

When he had a picture he was satisfied with, Dan tinkered with the contrast and brightness to try to make the selfie look a little more flattering. It wasn’t a bad photo, just a little more silly than he normally posted. He’d been doing that more and more recently, though — the more he and Phil interacted on twitter, the more his profile was overtaken by less edited, personal snaps. His followers — and Phil, if his likes were anything to go by — loved the change in content, and the pictures always got more likes and retweets than his other posts.

Dan typed up a quick response to Phil and attached the photo.

 _@danielhowell:_ @AmazingPhil dw my creative process isn’t too much prettier [picture]

The rush of responses was almost instantaneous, and almost evenly divided between asking about what he was working on, and commenting on how adorable it was that him and Phil had such similar processes, save for the “difference in beverages.” 

Dan couldn’t help laughing at that. If only Phi’s fanbase new how _not_ innocent he really was. Scrolling down his feed, Dan picked a few tweets to respond to.

 _@music4lyfe39:_ @danielhowell lol clearly you and @AmazingPhil should be productive together

 _@danielhowell:_ @music4lyfe39 i doubt @AmazingPhil would appreciate the cacophony of guitar noises while he’s trying to edit

 _@istanonedan:_ are we ever going to get to see you and @AmazingPhil do anything together?

 _@danielhowell:_ @istanonedan who knows. ask him. he’s the one with the youtube channel

The tweet was sent before Dan could really processed what he’d proposed: a video together on Phil’s channel. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that — and he _really_ wasn’t sure how Phil would feel about that. As friendly and open as Phil was with his audience, Dan knew that he was a pretty private person. From what it sounded like, most of the people Phil collaborated with were work friends or general acquaintances, with the exception of PJ. 

Phil might be reluctant to share a video of his friendship with Dan on the internet. But Dan couldn’t help feeling little bit excited at the idea. It could be fun, a more informal, lighthearted way to interact with his fans and get to know Phil’s audience a bit, especially since they seemed to overlap quite a bit.

Dan pulled himself from his thoughts and turned his attention back to twitter, picking another tweet to respond to. 

_@imstillemo:_ @danielhowelldoes this mean new music

 _@danielhowell:_ @imstillemo soon

Dan was distracted from chatting with his fans by a notification that Phil had responded to his tweet.

 _@AmazingPhil:_ @danielhowell Does this have anything to do with the lyrics you scribbled on a napkin yesterday but wouldn’t let me read?

The number of tweets Dan was receiving to his photo response was quickly beginning to pale in comparison to the tweets that were flooding in about Phil’s comment. They were all directed at both him and Phil, asking what they’d been doing together, why Dan hadn’t let Phil see the lyrics, if the song had something to do with Phil, and if Phil was going to get a sneak preview of Dan’s music again.

Dan ignored the fan’s questions in favor of directly responding to Phil.

 _@danielhowell:_ @AmazingPhil no this is something different actually

Phil replied quickly — both publicly and privately. First, Phil tweeted a series of wide-eyed and question-eyed emojis, and then sent Dan a DM.

 _Phil Lester:_ You aren’t very nice, now you’ve made me curious about two things :(

 _Daniel Howell:_ lol if you want to know what i’m working on, you can just ask philip

 _Phil Lester:_ I don’t want to be pushy, I’m just whining.

 _Daniel Howell:_ nah m8 it’s fine, i can try to film you a bit of what i’ve got if you’re nice

 _Phil Lester:_ :) :) :) I’ll give you a free muffin tomorrow! One of the red velvet ones that we are bound to run out of, too! :) :) :)

 _Daniel Howell:_ tomorrow’s valentines day why are you working

 _Phil Lester:_ I don’t have anything better to do and everyone else wanted to spend time with their significant others.

Dan knew Phil wasn’t seeing anyone — he’d never mentioned anyone and had even alluded to being single a few times — but Dan was irrationally happy to hear that Phil didn’t have plans with anyone tomorrow, even if it meant that he was stuck working on a day he normally had off.

It sucked that Dan _did_ have plans tomorrow, since Isabella was expecting a grand, romantic, instagram-worthy dinner complete with candles and flowers and gifts.

A gift.

Fuck, Dan hadn’t bought a gift yet. 

_Oh well,_ Dan thought. He’d just have to stop by a jeweler on his way to dinner. Surely he wouldn’t be the only person in the world needing to buy a last-minute necklace on Valentine’s Day (although, Dan had a sneaking suspicion that Isabella was expecting a piece of jewelry that _wasn’t_ a necklace, but to hell if that washappening).

Seeing Phil before shopping and dinner would make the day a bit more tolerable, that was for sure.

 _Daniel Howell:_ i think i can squeeze in stopping by then if there’s a special muffin involved xx

With the promise of some kind of reward in return (though Dan honestly would have filmed himself for Phil for less) Dan quit twitter and propped his phone up on the table, trying to balance it against the coffee mug. It took a bit of finagling to get it right, but when the phone seemed stable enough, Dan hit record and sat back to start playing the snippet of music he’d written so far. 

He only gotten a few chords in before the phone slipped and fell face up, filming his ceiling instead of him.

“Fuck,” Dan muttered. He gathered his phone, stopped the previous recording, and propped his phone back up against the coffee mug, this time wedging the bowl of popcorn in front of it to help secure it. 

Much to his annoyance, the phone fell again before he could get even halfway through the song. _Jesus_ , it was only about a minute, it’s not like he was asking much.

After two more unsuccessful attempts, Dan gave up with a huff and opened twitter.

 _Daniel Howell:_ look i tried my best but this kept happening

Dan attached the first video, the one that only had about three cords before the phone fell and ended with a muffled _fuck_ from Dan. 

It took Phil almost fifteen minutes to open his message — he must have gone back to editing while Dan had been trying to film himself. Hopefully Phil would find the video funny when he did see it. It was pretty ridiculous, Dan knew. He wasn’t sure why he was so incapable of taking a simple video for Phil. Last time, he’d dropped the phone from his mouth into his lap and this time he’d filmed his ceiling by mistake.

Dan was only partially absorbed in his guitar when Phil finally replied, half of his mind still focused on his interactions with Phil.

 _Phil Lester:_ Beautiful, true art.

 _Phil Lester:_ You’re such a mess.

 _Phil Lester:_ You act like filming yourself is rocket science.

 _Daniel Howell:_ shut up this is why you work with cameras and i work with instruments okay

 _Phil Lester:_ You’re ridiculous.

 _Phil Lester_ : AND now you’ve made me even more curious.

Whoops.

Dan knew he was being a bit of a tease. If he were in Phil’s shoes, he’d probably be halfway to his apartment by now. A small piece of him felt guilty for piquing Phil’s interest, but a larger part of him was disappointed that they hadn’t seen each other today. Dan kind of missed him.

Well, more than _kind of_. It didn’t help that Phil was being his adorable self, even over DMs.

Dan bit his lip, trying to decide what to do. Maybe instead of trying to film himself, he could just… find some other way to hang out with Phil.

 _Daniel Howell:_ how important is working on your video rn

 _Phil Lester:_ Not. Why?

 _Daniel Howell:_ we could skype?

Phil’s response was immediate.

 _Phil Lester:_ My username is amazingphil. What’s yours? 

_Phil Lester:_ I’ve got about a million friend requests since it’s my yt username as well and I don’t want to accidentally accept a fan…

 _Daniel Howell:_ give me five

Dan moved his guitar off his lap and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. The bones in his back _cracked_ loudly after having slouched in his sofa crease for so long. Stiffly, Dan sauntered down the hallway, looking for his computer. He checked his music room first, thinking he’d left in on the piano yesterday, but it wasn’t there.

 _Oh right_ , Dan thought with a blush. He’d left it in the bedroom.

Dan grabbed his computer off his nightstand, ignoring the mess of his room, and headed back to the lounge.

On his way back to the sofa, Dan swiped the bottle of wine off the bar cart and topped off his glass while he waited for his computer to boot up. 

The moment it turned on, Dan was assaulted by the sounds of moaning and grunting.

_Fuck._

While he’d remembered what he’d been doing with his laptop last night, he’d forgotten that he’d just closed his laptop on what he’d been doing when he’d, er, finished, rather than bothering to exit out of his incognito tab. 

Embarrassed at the sounds, Dan jabbed the mute button to make the noises stop. Meanwhile, he found his eyes flickering over the men on the screen. The guy on top was still bouncing on the other guy’s cock, with neither male having come yet — evidentelly Dan hadn’t even lasted the entire video. 

Hovering his mouse over the video, Dan realized he hadn’t even lasted _half_ the video. 

For _months_ , his sex life had been confined to blowjobs and fucking Isabella, which, while nice, wasn’t the same as _being fucked._ And last night, Dan had been just desperate enough for _that_ to break out his old vibrator, and _jesus_ had that been great. It had taken less than five minutes for Dan to get off. He’d felt like a teenager again.

And, well it was just… things had been rough with Isabella lately, and they hadn’t done, well, _anything_ in nearly a month — not since she’d broken all of his mugs. And recently, his sexual drives were focused more and more on men.

Throughout his life, Dan had always been very openly (at least with his friends and family) attracted to all genders, but had gone through periods of preferring one over another. Right now, Dan was particularly fixated on _cock_ — in any way, shape, or form, but particularly being fucked by one. 

Still, while Dan truly missed the feeling of being taken, he knew there was more to him being so focused on men right now. It was better not to think about _why_ his body and mind were so concentrated on sucking cock, riding cock, but _fucked_ by cock, right now, so Dan did his best to instead focus on his imminent skype call with Phil. 

Dan shook his head and closed out of all the browser windows he had opened, instead focusing on punching in Phil’s username to skype. Then he picked up his phone to let Phil know on twitter what his username was.

 _Daniel Howell:_ look you can’t laugh it’s from when i was going through my lol random XD phase 

_Phil Lester:_ Omg what is it?

Dan cringed as he typed out his username, hoping Phil wouldn’t fixate on it too heavily or try to make sense of _why on earth_ Dan thought his username was a good idea.

 _Daniel Howell:_ danisnotonfire

Phil didn’t respond, but Dan did almost instantly got a notification that _AmazingPhil_ had accepted his friend request. His laptop chimed with the skype call ring just seconds later. With his wine glass halfway to his mouth, Dan pressed _accept_.

“What is that random string of letters even supposed to be?” Phil asked in lieu of a greeting, giggling with his tongue sticking out between his teeth.

Dan sputtered into his wine glass. “Actually fuck off. It’s Dan is not on fire.”

Phil scrunched his eyebrows up. “Um… good? Is that supposed to have some meaning?”

“No,” Dan shook his head in humiliation. “I told you, I was being _random_. Luckily, Louise talked me into creating a _professional_ account for everything public when I started taking gigs and stuff, or I fear that branding would have stuck with me forever.”

“Yeah, you are definitely lucky to have Louise. Fortunately, I like my branding pretty well, which is good because I think I’m stuck with AmazingPhil until I die,” Phil chuckled.

“At least yours makes sense. You are pretty amazing and all,” Dan’s cheeks heated up — for some reason, he was completely incapable of stopping flirty compliments from spewing out of his mouth when he was around Phil.

Pink tinged Phil’s cheeks, as well. Phil looked cute when he blushed. Well, Phil always looked cute. But Dan especially liked how Phil looked when Dan flustered him.

Schooling his expression, Phil smirked and shot back, “in that case, yours makes sense, too. After all, you aren’t on fire.”

Dan’s hands flew up to cover his face, embarrassed at Phil’s taunting. “Fuck _off_ ,” Dan whined. “I take it back. I’m hanging up. No song preview for you.”

Phil crossed his arms and pouted. “Nooooo, you promised.” 

Suddenly, a look of inspiration washed over Phil’s face. “Hey! How long is your song right now? However long it is, I’ll show you that much footage of my video!” 

Phil sounded knowing — far more knowing than he had any right to be. Dan supposed he had been less than subtle about his love for Phil’s videos. Lord knows that he’d gushed to Phil about how great they were plenty (not to mention all the times he’d retweeted Phil’s new videos with his own review)

Dan’s eyes narrowed; he sensed he that he and Phil were in a negotiation now. “I want outtake footage you aren’t going to put in the video then,” Dan bargained.

“Deal,” Phil agreed, offering his hand to the camera, as if to shake Dan’s hand. Dan held his hand out to mirror Phil’s, and dramatically shook it up and down. 

“However much of my song I’ve written, that’s how much blooper material I get.” Dan smiled, almost wondering if it was worth playing random chords at the end to get a longer clip from Phil. It’s not liked he’d know. 

Well, he’d probably realize that the improvised music was _crap_ , but he wouldn’t realize that it was _unplanned_. 

It wasn’t _quite_ worth it though. Dan didn’t want Phil to think he was inept for any reason, not if he could help it. 

“I think I’ve got nearly a minute written, but you’re in charge of timing it.” Dan pulled his guitar back across the couch and settled further back, allowing himself a bit more space to cradle the instrument in his lap. 

Dan could feel his heart starting to beat faster — it felt almost like a too-fast metronome for his song. His adrenaline wasn’t even this high when he was on _stage,_ but for some reason, it was pumping through him like fire now. 

Dan didn’t know why he was so nervous about Phil’s reaction. Sure, he was always a bit anxious sharing his underdeveloped music with people, but for some reason he really, _really_ cared about Phil’s opinion.

 _It’s because Phil’s so talented himself,_ Dan tried to tell himself. 

And that was true. Phil was an incredibly talented individual. But so was Louise and his musicians and his studio manager. There was something _more_ to Dan’s concerns than just the fact that Phil was talented, but he wasn’t about to let himself dwell on that now.

Instead, Dan swallowed his fears and started strumming the guitar, playing the same bit of melody that he’d been playing for over an _hour_ now. He just needed to _move past_ this fucking writer’s block.

When he finished (rather abruptly, Dan thought, but he hoped Phil didn’t notice how unfinished it sounded), Phil clapped. 

“It’s really good, I like it!” Phil’s eyes were wide and genuine. “Why didn’t you sing the lyrics, though? Are they secret? Do I not get to hear them?” Phil asked, pouting.

“Er, not quite.” Dan muttered. “You don’t get to hear them, but that’s mainly because there are no lyrics yet. I’ve been so focused on trying to capture the _mood_ that I haven’t figured out the words yet.”

“Oh,” Phil cocked his head, looking at Dan as if trying to truly _understand_ him. “Is that how you usually work?”

Dan shrugged. He wasn’t completely sure what his standard practice was, really. “Not usually. Well, not sometimes at least. More often than not I at least have _some_ words when I start working on the music part of the song, but I guess not always. And sometimes I start on the guitar, sometimes the piano — even though I’m pretty mediocre at it. It just depends on my mood and the song, I guess.”

“So no words for this song yet,” Phil hummed pensively. “Do you know what it’s about yet? Or is it just a tune that’s bugging you and you have to get it out?”

A wave of relief crashed over Dan. People were rarely this understanding when he talked about writing music. Louise always _tried_ to be, but she was his manager and he could feel the lowkey plea of _please write faster_ when they talked, and his musicians were amazing but he always felt slightly inferior, and Isabella swore she cared but her attention always drifted within the first two sentences. 

But Phil.

Phil tried to understand. Phil made art himself. Maybe not the same kind of art as Dan, but Phil understood how creativity worked, and had his own process that he clearly grappled with.

“Not quite,” Dan clarified. “It’s more like an idea? Like. I don’t know. I have this _feeling_ that I want to convey, but I don’t know what the words or exact message will be? So I’m starting with the tone, which is the one thing I feel certain about.”

“I get that,” Phil agreed. “Sometimes, with a video, I have to start with what I’m trying to accomplish and work backwards to figure out what the actual content of the video should be in order to do so.”

“Exactly!” Dan smiled widely. “Sometimes you just need to start somewhere besides the hardest part.” Dan took a sip of his wine, remembering halfway through his sip that Phil had a part of the bargain to uphold. Swallowing quickly, Dan cast Phil a glare. “Speaking of videos, mister, I think you owe me a clip of your video. How long was my song?”

Phil visibly startled, clearly having forgotten about their agreement. Then, he glanced down at his phone, where he’d presumably set a timer. “Forty-eight seconds.”

 _Well, not quite a minute then_ ,Dan sighed. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on his inadequacies.

“Okay, well then let me see forty-eight seconds of hot and risqué deleted content.”

Phil smiled sheepishly. Dan wasn’t sure if Phil was suddenly shy about the fact that he had to show Dan almost a full minute of potentially embarrassing footage, or if he was caught off guard by Dan implying that Phil had a _different kind_ of outtake. 

A few clicking noises echoed through Dan’s speakers as Phil concentrated on his screen. After a few minutes, Phil finally spoke up again. “Okay, remember this is an outtake, okay? My creative process usually involves a lot of re-doing of the same take.”

“It’s fine,” Dan rolled his eyes, already excited and sure he would like it no matter what it was, even if it was just forty-eight seconds of Phil staring at the camera. Maybe _especially_ if it was just forty-eight seconds of Phil staring at the camera. “I’m sure it will be incredibly entertaining, whatever it is.”

Phil drew his lip into his mouth, his teeth pressing into it. “Fine,” he huffed. Phil clicked around a few more times, and finally shared his screen with Dan.

Dan’s skype window flickered, filling with an image of Phil’s screen. On the right, Dan could see that Phil had 462 unread emails. _How the fuck does he cope with that?_ There were also two unread imessages and 39 messages on whatsapp. Suddenly, Dan felt grateful to have Phil’s undivided attention.

From what he could see behind the windowed version of Phil’s editing software, Phil’s computer looked like a complete and disorganized mess— completely the opposite of Dan’s computer, where he meticulously dismissed notifications and organized his sidebar icons in rainbow order. 

“Okay, here we go,” Phil said, looking nervous in the small box at the bottom of Dan’s screen. The mouse moved to the play button.

The Phil in the video editing software started to move. In the video, Phil was wearing a bright green shirt and was holding his computer. Dan wasn’t sure what the video was supposed to be about, but it seemed like Phil was reading something off the screen.

_“Did you job in the —” Phil cut himself off, sputtering nonsense._

Dan giggled, before immediately stifling his noises when realized Phil was jumping right back into whatever he was doing.

_“Did you get a film in the —” Phil cut himself off again, squeezing up his eyes and shaking his head._

Filming-Phil was adorable. He looked slightly annoyed with himself, but he was clearly still having a good time.

_“Did you get a job in the film indoostry —” Phil looked confused by his own pronunciation and started again._

That mess up was particularly adorable in Dan’s opinion — both the silly word choice and Phil’s reaction to himself. Dan’s heart beat erratically as he watched Phil try and try to say the same bit of words over and over again, messing up in increasingly ridiculous ways, but moving on as if it were nothing each and every time.

On-screen Phil butchered the simple question — whatever it was supposed to be — another three times before the video was paused and Real Phil stopped sharing his screen.

Finally unafraid that he would interrupt the video with his laughter, Dan let loose a high-pitched chuckle. “Aw, Philly, you’re so adorable sometimes.” 

“Nu huh,” Phil whined, pouting, though Dan could see that he was hiding a smile. Dan rolled his eyes, and leaned in close, eyes fluttering.

“You’re right. You’re adorable all the time,” Dan corrected, letting his eyes drag down Phil’s face and to the stretched-out collar of jumper.

A fierce blush spread across Phil’s cheeks. 

Phil opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Dan gasped. Without warning, the next few chords of the song had come to him.

“Hush, hang on,” Dan said, interrupting whatever Phil had been about to say. Phil laughed, asking what Dan’s problem was but Dan ignored him.

Instead, Dan’s hands flew back to the strings, plucking the last few chords he’d written earlier and flowing seamlessly into the new bit that he’d just imagined. He kept going, adding on almost another ten full seconds to the song all in one go.

 _Fucking FINALLY_ , Dan had figured out what was supposed to come next.

When Dan eventually looked back up, Phil was smiling softly at him. “You have a breakthrough?” Phil asked.

“Something like that,” Dan shrugged. 

“You seem like you’re on a roll!” Phil’s voice sounded forcefully cheery, and Dan wondered if Phil wanted to talk to Dan just as much as Dan wanted to talk to Phil.

“Yeah, I think I got passed what I was stuck on. Clearly you inspired me,” Dan smiled, trying to play off his comment as a joke.

Phil blushed anway, and Dan felt his heart melt a little. “You’re welcome, then. I’m glad I could be of use.” Phil’s tentative smile started to wilt. “I’ll just let you go so you can keep working now.”

“Wait!” Dan exclaimed, stopping Phil before he could end the call.

Phil froze, looking patiently at Dan.

“I —” _miss you_ , Dan cut himself off. That wasn’t something he should be saying to Phil. 

Instead, he tried again. “It’s good seeing you. If random guitar noises won’t bother you too much while you edit, do you want to just stay on skype with me?”

A wide smile pulled at Phil’s lips, this one much more real than the last. 

“Yeah, I’ll just turn you down a little bit.” Dan wasn’t sure if it was just in his imagination, but it was starting to seem like Phil enjoyed working with Danas well. “Type if you want me and I don’t respond?”

“Sounds good,” Dan smiled back. 

With one more quick nod of agreement, Phil started to click around on his computer. Dan turned the volume of his computer down slightly as well, and set it on the coffee table. With the current arrangement, Dan could still see Phil, who appeared to be slightly frowning at his computer, and could hear snippets of Phil cheerfully talking — he must have gone back to editing. 

Dan glanced at the small box containing his own image to make sure he was still in frame, and balanced his guitar back on his lap. 

Happy to not have lost Phil just yet, and before the inspiration could flee, Dan dove back into creating music. He re-played the last few chords again, tacking on the new ones he’d figured out just a moment ago, and found, his fingers naturally adding a few more new chords that flowed perfectly from where he’d started.

It felt good, finally _getting somewhere_ with this song. He could feel the pent up stress washing away as he _finally_ let out his feelings with the music.

Dan scribbled the new chords down on his paper and continued playing. A small part of him expected to hit a wall again — and he almost did a few times. Every now and then, though, his eyes would drift up to his computer and glance at Phil, who was still hard at work, and his mind would refocus, and _bam_ the next chords would come to him.

It only took twenty minutes before he had a rough version of the entire song written. 

Dan looked back at Phil, allowing himself to look for longer than just a split second this time. Phil looked deep in concentration, eyebrows furrowed and tongue between his teeth. It was cute. Dan had the urge to reach out and poke Phil’s tongue.

Clearing his throat, Dan tried to get Phil’s attention.

“Phil?” On screen, Phil didn’t seem to realize that Dan was talking to him. “Phil! _Phil_!” Dan all but shouted.

Startled, Phil’s head jerked up to look at his camera, and he let out a quiet _yelp_. 

“Jesus, Dan. You scared me. That’s why I said to type!”

“Sorry,” Dan shrugged unapologetically. “But now that I have you…” 

Phil rolled his eyes. “What do you want, you nerd?”

“I think I finished the song? Or, well, the music part of it, anyway. And I uh, wanted to see what you thought?” Dan hesitated, hoping that Phil didn’t mind listening to several minutes of something so rough and unedited. Dan hadn’t felt as bad about the earlier _minute_ , but this was… much more.

Much to Dan’s pleasure, however, Phil’s eyes lit up and he clapped eagerly. “Yes, yes! Hang on let me just save this.” 

Phil tapped around for a few seconds, eyes darting around his screen, before he stopped moving and went back to staring at the camera. His grin was absolutely infectious, and he leaned back on his sofa to show he was relaxed and ready to be entertained. “Okay, I’m ready. Play for me, Daniel.”

Dan rolled his eyes, but dutifully braced his fingers back on the guitar. 

“If it sucks, you can tell me. It’s a bit rushed…” Dan wavered, fingers stroking nervously over the strings of his guitar. When Phil just nodded and motioned for Dan to get on with it, Dan sucked in a deep breath and finally started playing the new version of the song.

Phil was silent the entire time that Dan played. Dan expected his nerves to fade away when he started playing, expected to get lost in the music like always, but a portion of his mind was still hyper aware of the fact that he was playing something completely new, something completely unrevised for _Phil_. This wasn’t something he’d ever really done for someone else. Usually, Dan only wanted to present his most polished self. He pushed through his anxiety though, trying his best to keep his hands steady enough to hit the right notes, and played the full song for Phil. 

When the last corded faded, Phil was quiet for another moment before he spoke.

“I love it, it’s beautiful.” Phil sounded awed. Dan felt his cheeks flushing in a way they never did when he shared his music these days. When was the last time Dan had felt so… pleased that someone had enjoyed what he played? 

“Have you figured out any of the words yet?” Phil asked after another moment of awed silence. His voice was breathy, hopeful.

Dan didn’t know what to say. He almost hadn’t even expected Phil to enjoy the _instrumental_ , let alone want _more_. Deciding to be nonchalant as he could manage, Dan cleared his throat. 

“Nope,” he said, smacking his lips. 

It wasn’t technically a lie — Dan hadn’t written any _lyrics_ yet, but he had started to get a better idea of what he wanted the words to focus on. 

“I’m sure you’ll get there,” Phil added, interrupting Dan’s train of thought. He hesitated for a moment, before adding, “I don’t mean this in a bad way, but it sounds a bit… different from your normal stuff. Or is that just me?”

Dan’s eyes widened in surprise. He knew Phil listened to his music — Phil had told him as much — but he hadn’t realized that Phil listed to his music _enough_ to be able to compare this song to his past music.

Phil was right, of course. This song was different. It was slower, almost more… of a ballad. Nearly everything else Dan had released thus far was faster, louder, heavier. But this was slow and quiet and _... something else._ Sure, Dan had released a few slower songs in the past, but they were the minority of his music. Way back before he’d gotten famous, he’d even written a few songs that almost bordered on being love songs, but those were mostly unheard by the public. But this song, this was certainly a bit of a change in style.

“Er, yeah… it is.” If Phil had realized how _different_ this song was, would his fans? Would they like the new style, or would they wonder why Dan was doing something weird? 

“Do you think people will hate it?” Dan asked doubtfully, chewing on his lip.

“No!” Phil replied instantly, his face softening, but his eyes remaining just as eager. “It’s great to hear a new style from you, it really shows how versatile your talent really is.” Phil’s compliment sounded so genuine that Dan was pretty sure Phil wasn’t just placating him. “I can’t wait to hear what you do with the lyrics.” 

“Okay, go away then,” Dan giggled, trying to cover up his blush at Phil’s compliments. “I’m going to try to write some words.”

Phil rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly at Dan’s antics. “I’ll be right here if you need me. I have a crapton of editing to do. I think we’re both going to be here for a while.”

Dan smiled, not so secretly pleased by his extended time with Phil, and nodded.

Shoving his guitar to the side and flipping his notebook to a new page, Dan got back to work. The quiet, dulcet tones of Phil’s editing were the perfect amount of background noise as Dan tried to translate his feelings — feelings he was slowly starting to identify — into words.

For now, Dan decided not to question it. He decided to just _run_ with his emotions and scribble down the words that came to mind. He’d deal with what the words _meant_ later.

“ _DAN_!” Phil’s voice suddenly broke through Dan’s thoughts, calling his name. Dan jumped, accidentally drawing a harsh line down his page.

When he looked back up at Phil, he did his best not to let the surprise show on his face.

“Hey Phil,” Dan dumped his notepad next to him. “How’s it going?”

“I’ve just finished editing my video, I just need to look over it tomorrow. How are you doing?” 

Dan glanced down at his notepad. There was a wide array of lyrics, just not necessarily in order. He was happy with what he’d managed. Before he’d started skyping Phil, he’d a measly forty-eight seconds of music, and now he had a full song and a really solid foundation for the lyrics. “Good, good. I’ve got a good start to the words, I think.”

“I’m proud! You’ve been so productive,” Phil cheered, giving Dan the cutest smile. It quickly faded into a look of regret, though. “But it’s getting late, so…” Phil’s voice trailed off. Dan didn’t know if it was just him, or if Phil sounded somewhat disappointed at how late it had gotten, or the fact that he had to get off skype with Dan.

Dan glanced at the clock — it was nearly quarter to one in the morning.

“Fuck, Phil. Sorry, did I force you up longer than you wanted to be?” Dan panicked. He knew Phil had to be up to work at the coffee shop tomorrow — he’d already said as much. How selfish was Dan that he’d made Phil stay awake with him, just so Dan could be productive?

“No! I needed to finish editing before bed anyway.” Phil sounded content. Tired, but content.

“Well, yeah, but that could have gone faster without me interrupting you, I’m sure.” Dan picked at his thumbnail, feeling bad still.

Phil smiled, his eyes kind. “It was well worth the trade off, I promise, Dan. We should do it again. Soon.”

The eager look on Phil’s face told Dan that Phil wasn’t just being polite, that Phil wasn’t just trying to get off the call as smoothly as possible, that Phil _actually wanted_ to be productive with Dan again. A little part of Dan melted at that. He’d not had someone to be productive with in a long time, someone he could just sit with while they both worked on their own projects, someone who would give feedback if they were asked, but were happy to just _be there_ , too.

That suited Dan just fine. He figured the only reason he had half the amount of the song written as he did was because of Phil.

“That sounds good. Maybe we can even do it in person?” Dan asked tentatively. 

“I’d like that.” Phil smiled. “Goodnight, Dan.”

Dan smiled back and made a heart with his hands. “Night, Philly.”

“That’s so cheesy,” Phil shook his head.

“It’s supposed to be cheesy,” Dan chuckled back, giving a small wave. “Sleep well,” Dan murmured, giving Phil one last smile before hanging up.

For the first time in hours, Dan glanced at his phone. Sometime during their three and a half hour skype call, Phil had tweeted again, this time tagging Dan.

 _@AmazingPhil:_ @danielhowellwas wrong. The “cacophony of guitar noises” was excellent background noise during editing. [picture]

Attached to the tweet was a picture of Phil’s computer. A video editing program took up most of the screen, but skype was shrunk into a small window in the bottom left corner. In the picture, Dan was still holding his guitar and had a screwed up look of concentration on his face. His lower lip was tucked between his teeth and his eyes were staring heavenward as he tried to figure out what to do next. 

So this is the _thinking face_ Louise always made fun of him for.

The tweet already had several thousand likes, and a quick glance at the replies showed that Phil hadn’t responded to anyone yet. Phil must have tweeted while he was still working as well, and hadn’t bothered to reply to either of their fans. Dan opted to follow suit and not answer to any of their questions, instead replying directly to Phil. 

_@danielhowell:_ @AmazingPhil i’ll get you back for this lester.

Dan threw his phone across the couch without waiting for a response, and turned his attention back to the notepad he’d been scrawling in earlier.

The lyrics were all disjointed still. He needed to sit down and figure out how to fit them into the melody he’d written, how to stitch them together to form a song with a bridge and a chorus and an actual _form_. But as he skimmed over the words, Dan began to realize what this song was _actually_ about.

Lust.

Wanting.

Yearning.

Dan read over the words a third, a fourth, a fifth time. He thought about his inspiration for the song — the dark, deep, sometimes bitter taste of espresso, and the comfort of another person — and realized _exactly_ what this song was about.

Phil.

Fuck _._

 _Fuck_. 

Dan had tried to deny it for weeks — to Louise, to Isabella, to Phil, to himself even. But he couldn’t run from this. Not anymore.

Somewhere along the way, Dan had gone completely and utterly mad for Phil. Everything he’d felt with _anyone_ in that past was _nothing_ compared to what he felt with Phil — and they hadn’t even _kissed_. 

That’s why Dan was suddenly primarily interested in gay porn starring black-haired boys, that’s why he’d been avoiding sleeping with Isabella for several weeks now, that’s why he’d been spending every free (and unfree) moment at Beans and Grind.

Phil.

_Fuck._

He needed to break up with Isabella. Now. Only — _shit_.

Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ read and reblog on tumblr ](http://imnotinclinedtomaturity.tumblr.com/post/173887044555/love-yourself-chapter-10)


	11. 11 (6815)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you very much to @auroraphilealis for reading and editing this chapter, especially today when she was feeling overwhelmed from work.  
> this chapter took a little longer to publish because i got wrapped up in the oneshot i posted ( [read here if you want!](http://imnotinclinedtomaturity.tumblr.com/post/174064536845/love-is-a-risk) ).  
> also, you’ll notice that i included a link -- it’s not *technically* nsfw but it’s close, just fyi lol (you don’t have to look at it, just included it for those who were curious)

The next morning, Dan woke up with a start. Faintly, he thought he heard the _ding_ of his lift door, but he was almost _certain_ that he’d dreamt it until — 

“Oh, Dannnn _iel!_ ” 

A cheery, high voice trilled throughout the flat, echoing in the early morning silence. Dan’s eyes flew open in surprise, just for a moment, before stubbornly fluttering shut again. He’d been up well past four in the morning the night before. Whoever was here would just have to kindly _fuck off._

Dan rolled onto his stomach in defiance, burying his face in his pillow in a hazy attempt to hide from whoever had shown up completely uninvited. In his half asleep stupor, Dan tried to muddle through his thoughts long enough to try to figure out who was here, if he had plans that he’d forgotten about, what _time_ it even was. Dan peeked a reluctant eye out of the darkness of his pillow and was greeted by the sun drifting in through his curtains, so it must not be _that_ early. It felt like the blasted sunlight was trying to cajole him into facing the day, but Dan was pretty adamant about doing the exact opposite.

Especially after last night’s epiphany.

And the subsequent _hours_ spent worrying about it.

Nope. For now, Dan would hide in bed. As long. As humanly. Possible.

“Daniel, dearest? Where arr _rrrre_ you?” The singsong voice drifted closer as whoever it was moved further into the apartment. 

Dan bit back a groan, not wanting to give away his location before he hand to. Why hadn’t he locked his bedroom door last night? Oh right, he lived alone and that was a stupid thing to do. 

It’s not like he was expecting someone to show up at — he glanced at the clock — _ten in the morning_.

Well, on second thought, it wasn’t _that_ early. At least not to the rest of the world. It felt like it might as well have been daybreak for how tired Dan felt, but most people didn’t share his affinity for staying up well into the night to contemplate life, its meaning, his place in the world… Jesus, there he went again.

Blearily, Dan tried to remember if he had any morning plans, other than going to Beans and Grind. He was fairly certain that he didn’t technically have anything scheduled until his dinner with Isabella that night.

Oh _fuck_.

That’d better not be Isabella.

Realistically, Dan knew that there were only a small handful of his friends and family that even had access to his apartment, so the intruder could really only be a small number of people — unfortunately, one of whom was his _dearly beloved._

And he _really_ didn’t want to see her right now.

Dan groaned quietly and pulled the covers over his head, as if practically suffocating himself in his own pillow wasn’t enough. He listened for the telltale _click clack_ of heels that always accompanied Isabella, but the flat was shockingly quiet.

He couldn’t cope with seeing her right now. Not half-awake, not before coffee, not before he’d figured out how he was going to _handle_ things. He’d tried to come up with a solution all fucking night, but he just _couldn’t_. Why had he waited to come to such a strong realization _the night before Valentine’s Day_? He couldn’t have waited one more _fucking_ day to finally get his head on straight?

(Or, well, maybe _straight_ was the wrong word, all things considered).

Valentine’s Day was the _one_ day of the year that absolutely everyone agreed that dumping someone was completely unacceptable.

And, yet, here Dan was, unable to stomach thinking about spending another five bloody minutes in his girlfriend’s company. It was just his luck that Isabella had planned a big fuckingromantic dinner for them tonight.

Dan sunk deeper into his bedsheets, dreading the thought of Isabella appearing in his room.

The flat was _still_ silent, though — peaceful, even. Not a mood he usually associated with Isabella. Whoever it was, they’d stopped screaming for him. He didn’t hear any heels clacking, or even anyone moving around outside of his door. Despite the low hum of panic coursing through his body, sleep pulled at Dan, lulling him into the false sense of security that maybe, just maybe he might have _dreamed_ the intruder. He let his eyes flutter closed again, blissfully choosing to ignore the world.

“Lazy boy, there are you!”

 _Jesus_. 

Dan tensed up in reaction. The bed gave a quiet _squeak_ as someone sat down, causing him to slip towards them. Refusing to look up and finally face today just yet, Dan took in a deep breath of air, air tinged with roses and lilacs and lilies — Louise.

He let out a sigh of relief, body going boneless against his sheets. He could handle Louise. Of all of the people who could have been in his apartment at ten in the morning on Valentine’s Day — especially when he was this fucking tired still — Louise was by far the best option. He smiled into his pillow, and relaxed against her thigh, where he’d shifted when she’d slid into bed with him.

“Morning, Lou,” Dan murmured, face still muffled by the pillow. He felt her hand land in his hair, petting softly.

“Morning, Danny Boy. Wakey, wakey. It’s Valentine’s Day!” Louise still sounded annoyingly chipper for so early in the morning. 

“Valentine’s Day is cancelled. Can it just be tomorrow already?” Dan moaned, rolling over, accidentally knocking Louise’s hand from his head. Too distressed about his own predicament to be upset at losing Louise’s comfort, Dan stared blankly at the ceiling.

“Nope! We have a best friends brunch date that you’re not getting out of, and while we’re eating, you can tell me why you’re being a grumpy goose,” Louise chastised. 

“Brunch?” _Finally_ , something good for today. Dan perked up in interest, raising himself onto his elbows to better see her. “We had brunch plans?”

“Not that you knew about, love,” Louise reassured him camly. “I just figured it would be nice to do something for breakfast since I’m sure we both have plans tonight.” 

Louise was a good friend. No matter what was going on in their lives — professionally or personally — she always deliberately made time for just the two of them to spend together. He should have known she’d have something up her sleeve for Valentine’s Day.

Dan smiled, unabashedly pushing back the covers, finally feeling like today might be a day worth facing after all. The chilly apartment air hit his bare chest, and he was tempted to pull the duvet back over himself, curl up in bed, and never get up. But Louise was beaming at him, dressed in a pink sweater with a matching pink bow in her hair, looking excited, and against all odds, Dan was looking forward to their morning, too.

Apparently, though, Dan was too slow at getting out of bed because she started swatting at his shoulders with one hand, bundling the blankets towards her with her other.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming,” Dan whined petulantly, sending Louise a grateful smile so she knew he was kidding (mostly). He pushed himself out of bed and made his way to his closet before realizing he had no idea what to put on because he was missing a key piece of information. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise!” 

Rolling his eyes, Dan turned back around to face Louise. “Can I get a dress code, at least? Otherwise I’m just wearing this,” Dan motioned down to the tight black Calvin Klein’s he was wearing.

“I’m sure plenty of the world would be excited about that, but I’d prefer you put something else on.” Louise’s eyes were twinkling, and she reached down to grab something resting out of Dan’s site on the floor. When she straightened back up, Dan saw that it was a shopping bag, and it looked fancy. 

“Lou...” Dan warned warily. He’d had plenty of experience with Louise buying him things. To be fair, he always ended up loving them, but she had a tendency to… push his style comfort sometimes.

“For you!” Louise cooed, passing him the bag. “Black jeans are fine to wear with it. I’ll be in the lounge. Don’t take too long!” 

Before Dan could protest, Louise was jumping down from his bed, and walking briskly from his room. 

Half expecting Louise to poke her head back around the doorway to see his reaction, Dan waited until Louise’s footsteps faded out of site to open the bag. _Pink_. Everything he saw was _pink_. Warily, Dan pulled the garment out of the bag and held it up, assessing just how _bad_ whatever he’d apparently agreed to was.

Truthfully, it wasn’t hideous. It was just… pink. A muted, light pink sweater edged with blocky black trim. Looking more closely, Dan saw that it was _almost_ sheer and had a very faint pixelated heart pattern. If it weren’t for the fact that it _wasn’t black_ , Dan would almost concede that it was very much his style. 

If he was going to wear something outside of the monochrome rainbow, it seemed fitting for it to be something soft, but a little bit ostentatious. But even if he _did_ hate it, he’d probably still wear it without a fight, just to make Louise happy.

Dan pulled the bright garment over his head, and searched for his nearest pair of trousers. Strewn across the armchair were his black jeans, the ones with massive rips across the thighs and knees. They might be cold but they kind of leaned into the slightly-edgy aesthetic of the pink sweater, so it felt like a good choice. Once they were on, Dan paused in front of the mirror and ruffled his hair, quickly rubbing a bit of product in it to tame the curls ever so slightly. 

_Good enough_.

Deciding he didn’t care to try any harder to look nice, Dan shoved his wallet and keys into his pocket, grabbed his coat off the back of his bedroom door, and headed into the lounge to find Louise.

“There you are, my handsome best friend.”

“Shut up, Louise. You’re lucky I love you,” Dan grumbled, making an effort to sound more annoyed than he really was. His mock-annoyance couldn’t last long though; Louise had placed black and white flowers on his bar cart. She’d allowed him to keep some part of his dark aesthetic today and, really, the flowers looked lovely. He really loved flowers — enough so that he bought them for himself sometimes. But there was something about having someone _else_ buy them for him that made the flowers feel extra special. . 

He smiled, washing away the exaggeratedly bitter grimace. “No Darcy today?”

“Nope!” Louise stood up and pulled on a dark pink trench coat that she’d must of tossed over Dan’s sofa when she’d first got in. Dan spotted his notebook on the armrest, and tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket on a whim. _Just in case._ “Tom is being a good boyfriend and taking care of her so that you and I can do something together.” 

“Oh that’s nice of him,” Dan agreed. “Who’s watching her tonight, then?” 

Dan crossed his fingers, praying that perfect mother Louise had forgotten to hire a sitter that night, that she would need someone — Dan, for example — to last minute take care of Darcy.

“Tom’s sister. She’s single, so the poor dear didn’t have anything to do tonight anyway. It was actually rather nice of her to offer.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?” 

Louise gave him a confused look over her shoulder as she pushed the button to call the lift. “I assumed you had plans with… your girlfriend.” Louise’s voice was forcefully chipper, but there was a tinge of confusion to it, as if she didn’t quite understand why Dan was so offended.

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Dan nodded his head. “Oh, right. Yeah, Isabella.” 

Louise looked downright confused, now, and she stared suspiciously at Dan while they waited for the lift to arrive.

“You _do_ have plans with her tonight, right?” Louise asked, sounding a bit outraged.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Dan reassured her. ”She’s flying in from Turks and Caicos specially for dinner,” he continued, unable to keep the dread out of his voice as he realized just how much of a mess he was actually in. 

Louise’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at his tone.

“Someone sounds excited,” she teased .

“Shut up, Lou. No one asked your opinion,” Dan grumbled,

Louise rolled her eyes as the lift doors opened, and the two of them stepped inside. “Right, because if you _had_ asked for my opinion, you would have broken up with her _ages_ ago.”

Dan grimaced — Louise had hit a little too close to home with that jab — and his cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. He’d planned to talk to Louise about his revelation about Isabella at _some_ point, but he hadn’t exactly meant to make his distaste for tonight’s plan quite so _clear_. At least not this early ino brunch.

Apparently, his expression wasn’t missed by Louise, however. 

“Daniel. James. Howell.” She gasped. “What is that look about?” she asked, sounding entirely too happy for someone who was speculating about the demise of Dan’s nearly year-long relationship. But then again, she had never taken any efforts to hide her hatred for Isabella in the past, so her gleeful attitude now shouldn’t be _that_ surprising.

Groaning as he realized he wasn’t quite awake enough to deal with this just yet , Dan stabbed the ground floor button, and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. “Can this wait until brunch please?” he begged.

Louise narrowed her eyes. “Fine. But you are telling me _everything_ as soon as we have mimosas.”

“And coffee,” Dan added. _Fuck_ , he really needed coffee. 

************

Louise kept her promise. The entire walk to the mysterious brunch place, she chatted about Darcy and what she’d been doing in school lately, how cute it was to see her making friends with the new boy, and ‘experimenting with fashion’. Dan laughed and, just for a moment, let himself forget his own problems. The lives of Louise and Darcy caused Dan a lot less stress to think about, and he relished the distraction. The moment the waiter left from delivering mimosas and coffee, however, Louise abandoned her topics and turned on Dan.

“Okay, spill. What’s going on with you and what’s her face?”

“You know her name,” Dan said, rolling his eyes and giving Louise an exasperated look.

“Unfortunately,” she muttered, not bothering to hide her distaste. “Now, talk. Because it sounds like you’re _finally_ fed up with her after months of me telling you she wasn’t worth your time— or anyone’s, really — and if that’s not the case, I’d rather you crush my dreams sooner than later.”

Dan sighed, and picked up his coffee, savoring a sip as he tried to decide where to start. He hadn’t exactly been anticipating talking about this any time soon, and he’d only just realized himself last night. Louise wasn’t _wrong_ though, not by any means. Dan just had no idea how to tell her that she was _right_. 

He huffed a sigh, rubbing his hands down his face. No better place to begin than with the whole root of the epiphany, he supposed. 

“Well, I was incredibly productive last night. I wrote the entire instrumental part of a song, and have a mess of lyrics to go with it.”

“That’s great, but focus please.” Louise snapped her fingers in front of his face, trying to get him to stay on topic.

“No—” Dan cut himself off, struggling to figure out how to vocalize everything he was feeling and thinking. This was why he was a _musician_. So that he could express himself with something more than just _talking_.

Music. Right. Dan twisted around in his chair and groped the breast pocket of his coat — _good_ , his song notebook was there. Maybe just _showing_ Louise would be easier. Dan dug the notebook out of his jacket, flinging it onto the table in between them in lieu of a proper response.

“Isabella first, music second,” Louise warned sternly.

“I promise it all connects. Just read read what I wrote,” Dan pleaded.

Eyeing him suspiciously, Louise picked up the notebook and flipped to the last page. 

Dan averted his gaze, studiously reading the menu while Louise read. Doing his best to ignore his anxiety at Louise reading what, essentially, amounted to a confession, Dan did his best to focus on brunch. 

Did he want something sweet or savory for breakfast this morning? If he was having dinner with anyone but Isabella tonight, he’d assume that they’d have dessert then, but, well. He wasn’t. 

Pancakes, then.

Dan snuck a glance up at Louise. She was still engrossed in the notebook. 

Secretly, Dan was a little self-satisfied that Louise — _Louise_ , the most talkative person he knew — was rendered completely silent for three full minutes.

Finally, _finally_ she pulled her eyes from the page and looked up at Dan.

“This is some heavy shit.”

“I know.” Dan agreed.

“What’s it about?”

Dan gave her an incredulous look. “What do you think it’s about?”

Louise was silent for another moment, contemplating the notebook again. Her perfectly pink lip was drawn into her mouth; knowing Louise’s luck, she was probably getting lipstick on her teeth. Eventually, Louise turned her attention back to Dan

“Wanting someone you can’t have.” Louise’s tone was neutral, guarded even. Dan shrugged, silently telling her that she was close enough. “And you wrote this last night?”

Dan nodded again. 

Louise didn’t ask any more follow up questions. Apparently, she was waiting for Dan to explain on his own. The problem was, Dan didn’t know _how_ to explain. He didn’t know how to admit that he was _wrong_ , that he’d finally fucking seen what his mother, his sister, Louise had all seen from the get go. He _hated_ being wrong. He didn’t want to say it. Not out loud.

So he didn’t.

“Phil,” Dan said instead.

“...Phil?” Louise repeated flatly, looking flabbergasted by the seeming shift in the conversation.

“Phil,” Dan confirmed.

Louise nodded slightly, looking back down at the lyrics. When she looked up again, there was a smile threatening to break across her face. “And Isabella?”

“Ugh,” Dan groaned. “Isabella can go fuck herself.”

The smile that was tugging at Louise’s lips spread into a wide grin. “Thank _fuck_ , Daniel!”

“I know. I know. I haven’t —” Dan was cut off by their waiter arriving. 

“May I take your orders?”

Dan nudged Louise’s menu at her because he suspected she hadn’t made a decision yet. “I’ll have the mixed berry pancakes, please.” He glanced at his coffee cup. “And some more coffee when you have a moment.” 

“Of course, sir.” The waiter turned to Louise. “And for you, miss?”

“Oh!” Louise exclaimed, eyes still roaming the page. “I’ll have pancakes as well. These ones here with the chocolate, please.” She glanced at Dan, pointing at their nearly empty mimosas. Dan nodded emphatically. “And another round of mimosas. Actually, whenever you see that we’re out of mimosas, we’d like another round. We’re _celebrating_!”

“Yes,” The waiter smiled fakely. “Today _is_ the celebration of love.”

Dan waited until the waiter had taken their menus and was out of earshot before he added, “More like the celebration of love _dying_ , mate.”

Louise giggled. “So love _dying,_ eh? Tell me more. How did you finally get to this realization?”

“God, I don’t even know honestly. I haven’t felt like myself in _months_ and I’ve just been so fucking busy that I haven’t figured out _why_ and... Izzy’s been out of town for almost two weeks, which has been… great, to say the least.” 

“You mean distance _doesn’t_ make the heart grow strong when the only thing you’re interested in is sex?” Louise asked sarcastically.

“I know, I know. Shocking isn’t it?” Dan joked back. “But anyways, so last night I was skyping with Phil —” Dan brushed over Louise’s attempt to interrupt and ask about that “— and I felt so fucking _comfortable_ and _myself_ again. And I wrote that whole song in like _an hour_. I haven’t written that way in _years_.”

“I know you haven’t.” Louise agreed consolingly.

“And I just — _fuck_.” Dan smacked his head on the table, wallowing for a moment before pulling back up and starting to take a drink of his mimosa, only to remember that it was empty. His hand shifted over, grabbing his coffee mug, only to disappointedly realize that was empty, too. Luckily, he saw the waiter approaching.

As the man brought over a tray with two more mimosas and another cup of coffee, Dan fleetingly wondered how things might have been different this past year if he hadn’t been dating Isabella. Would he have written more music? Done more of the things he liked to do? Been able to enjoy his new flat more? 

“God,” Dan continued. “She’s so _fucking_ self-obsessed, and so _fucking_ concentrated on fame and being in the spotlight and going out all the _fucking time,_ and I just hate all of those things _so fucking much._ I just want to focus on music.”

Louise bit back a giggle. Dan could tell that she was feeling incredibly smug, but he appreciated her restraint from being patronizing. 

“I know,” Louise sympathized. “I’ve been watching you struggle to balance focusing on yourself and your music with managing all of Isabella’s demands since you got together. It’s looked… tiring.”

“Yes! And I’m fucking _exhausted_ of it now. How the fuck am I supposed to —” the end of Dan’s sentence was interrupted by the waiter arriving once again, this time with their food. 

There was a silent agreement to drop the conversation for a moment so that they could focus on their food. Taking turns, Dan and Louise tried each of their pancakes, exchanging tastes of each other’s meals. They both agreed that Dan’s mixed berry topping was good, but it wasn’t nearly as amazing as the chocolate streusel on Louise’s

“So now what?” Louise asked as she popped another bite into her mouth.

Dan looked at her, a bit lost. Still chewing, Louise raised her eyebrows, nudging her head at Dan imploringly. 

_Right._ His conundrum. 

“So now I dump her,” Dan said simply, shrugging his shoulders and stealing another bite off of Louise’s plate. Louise didn’t react, just as Dan knew she wouldn’t. She was far too used to Dan stealing her food. 

“Yes!” Louise cheered. “I’ll happily pay for your uber to her flat after brunch!” 

Dan choked on the food in his mouth. He fumbled for his drink, downing half of his mimosa in one swallow. When he finally had control of his breath again, he turned back to Louise, affronted. “What the fuck, Lou?”

Louise looked taken aback by his outburst, her eyebrows high on her forehead and her eyes wide. “What? _What?_ ”

“Are you insane? I can’t break up with her today!”

Louise’s shock turned incredulous. “And why, pray tell, not?”

“That’s such a dick move! Valentine’s Day is the _one_ day of the year that the entire fucking world agrees is supposed to be about romance. You know, the _opposite_ of breaking up. You can’t dump someone on Valentine’s Day! Or at least not without a really, _really_ good reason.”

“Um, she’s a massive bitch and has treated you like crap for almost a year. I think that’s a really, _really_ good reason.”

“I said _no_ , Lou,” Dan snapped. “I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll ask her to breakfast before she flies off to… wherever she’s supposed to go tomorrow night and… just do it then.” Dan said apathetically as he swirled the contents of his mimosa around. “I have no idea how I’m going to stomach tonight’s date. God, it’s going to _suck_.”

“Good luck with that, love.” Louise said rather facetiously and not quite as sympathetically as Dan was hoping for. “Do you want to —”

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Dan cut her off, suddenly remembering something. “I haven’t gotten her a present.”

“Good?” Louise responded, confused.

“No! Not good!” Dan exclaimed indignantly. “That means I have to get her something _now_. Today! I have to buy her something when I _know_ I’m breaking up with her tomorrow. I can’t buy her anything _too_ nice because one, I refuse to spend that kind of money on her and two, that will only get her hopes up. But if it’s too shitty, she’ll get mad and it will be a whole _thing_.”

“Dan, sweetie.” Louise said slowly, as if she were trying to explain something to a child. Her eyes twinkled with mirth. “Maybe you should take the fact that you even procrastinated buying a present until _today_ as a sign that you shouldn’t be postponing breaking up with her until tomorrow morning.”

“No.” Dan’s voice came out harsher, tenser, than he intended. He tried to soften it. “It’s… I can’t do that. Okay? I’ve done my own share of _shitty_ things to her. I don’t need to add to it.” Dan tapped his unused spoon on the table rapidly.

When Louise just looked at him blankly, perplexed, Dan continued.

“She’s mad about how much time I spend with Phil, about how we interact on twitter — I’ve told you that,” Dan tried to explain, his words rushed. “How do you think she’d react if she knew what we’re like in person? How flirty we are? The fact that we’ve both somehow seen each other _shirtless_? The fact that I’ve sat in his _lap_?”

Dan hung his head, defeated. His voice grew meeker and less heated. “But she’s right. She has every right to be mad. I’m no better than her. I don’t get to stand on some moral high ground and use her shitty behavior as an excuse for breaking up with her on the most _romantic day of the year_ , not when I’ve been just as shitty.”

“I…” Louise floundered for a moment. “I didn’t realize things had gone that far with Phil.”

“I _told_ you Louise,” Dan said tightly.

“I know you did. I didn’t know your feelings were that serious, though. I thought, hoped even, that they might be. But I didn’t know.” Louise reached out and covered Dan’s hands with her own, effectively stilling the tapping of the spoon.

Did it matter? Did it matter what Dan’s feelings or intentions had been? His behavior was the same: shitty. 

“What?” Dan snapped, picking up his glass with the hand Louise was holding. “And all the flirting was okay when I didn’t think I was head over fucking heels for the guy, but the second I realize I might fucking _love_ him, suddenly the behavior is unacceptable? I don’t think so, Louise. I think it was always toeing the line of something very, very dangerous. Even when I just thought it was a schoolgirl crush.”

“I guess you’re right,” Louise relented, briefly thumbing his cheek. “I’m just biased when it comes to you. I know that you have a heart of gold and wouldn’t intentionally do anything to hurt anyone.”

Dan shrugged but didn’t respond. 

Louise was silent for a moment, staring at Dan like she was trying to read his soul. Self consciously, Dan averted his gaze, flitting his eyes around the room and taking in all of the nauseatingly heart-themed decor. It wasn’t exactly the reminder that Dan was looking for at this moment in time.

“Those are some big words, Daniel.”

Dan was tempted to play dumb, to pretend that he didn’t know what Louise was referring to. But his own words were bouncing around his head, echoing loudly in the vast numbness of his current mind. _Crush. Head over heels. Love._

“I know,” Dan acquiesced, knowing he couldn’t avoid this conversation any more than he could the one about Isabella.

“So what about him?” Louise asked gently, more tender than she’d been thus far. 

Dan chewed on his lip, pulling his gaze away from Louise and poking his fork at the remnants of his pancakes.

“What about Phil?” Louise repeated.

“I don’t know.” Dan huffed, still staring downward and fiddling with his cutlery.

Louise slapped Dan’s notebook against the table, effectively startling Dan into attention. “What do you mean you _don’t know_ about Phil?” she asked fiercely. “According to this song, you _very much_ know about Phil.”

“Look, Louise. You know I’m not great at dating. I’m either too distant and aloof, or I dive all in. And I dove all in with Isabella and it went to shit.”

“It went to shit because _Isabella_ is shit.” Louise pointed out.

“I get that, but also _I_ trusted her. _I_ believed her when she said she loved me — when she said that she loved me for _me_ , regardless of me being famous. Which, in hindsight, was not true.”

“How is this all connecting to Phil?”

Dan hesitated, shifting his sight back down to the table and running his cloth napkin through his hands. When he spoke, his voice came out smaller than he anticipated. “What if I’m wrong again?”

“Love,” Louise cooed, “it sounds like that boy is the sweetest, most genuine person on the planet. You really think he’d try to use you like Isabella did?”

“I mean, no. Not really. Not deep down anyway. But there’s still this gnawing fear about it.” Dan shoved his plate back some and drank the last bit of his coffee. Louise waited patiently for him to go on. “Besides, I don’t think I’m good enough for him.”

“Dan, you have made a lot of bad choices with relationships recently, but you deserve to be happy.” 

“It’s not that — I mean, maybe it is a little. I was so fucking _vulnerable_ in this relationship and it backfired and... Mostly it’s that I don’t think I’m in a good mindset to be anyone’s _anything_ right this moment. And Phil — Phil could be the real fucking deal and I’m _terrified_ of messing that up because I jump in too quickly.”

“So do you think you just need to take a little time to yourself first?”

“Maybe,” Dan hummed. “I mean. Yes. Definitely.” Dan nodded, more sure of his choice. “I just feel like I need to be on my own for a little bit, maybe work on myself.”

“I thought you hated being single, Mr. I Love Sex and Affection?” Louise sounded genuinely impressed beneath the teasing.

“I do,” Dan said with a smirk.

“But you’re willing to wait?”

“I want to, _need_ to do this right.” Dan steeled himself, decision made. “And the right way to do it is to fucking figure my own shit out and deal with all this mess from Isabella before I just dive into Phil.”

Louise smiled, looking proud. “When did you get to be so emotionally mature, Daniel?”

“Shut up,” Dan muttered bashfully. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Whatever you say.” Louise swallowed the last bit of her mimosa. 

Feeling a bit better about his shit situation, Dan leaned back in his chair, sighing deeply. Everything was going to be okay. 

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“One last thing, and then I _swear_ we can move on, okay?”

Dan sighed. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

“Just don’t wait too long? He seems like a good egg, and I don’t want you to lose him because you’re scared.”

Dan blanched. He knew she was right. He knew he couldn’t keep Phil on the line forever. He didn’t _want_ to do that either. He just needed to… to… sort himself out. 

“I won’t, I promise.”

True to her word, Louise dropped the subject for the rest of brunch, letting their conversation drift to only the fun and salacious parts of their lives. Dan filled Louise in on his sister’s most recent boyfriend (the consensus was that he sounded okay), and Louise turned a shade of deep red while describing the failed position she and Tom had tried in the bedroom (why either of them looked at a position called [the butter churner](https://www.cosmopolitan.com/uk/love-sex/sex/g19669046/sex-positions-challenge/?slide=27) and decided to try it was beyond Dan). 

It wasn’t until they paid their check and finished the last drops of their fourth — or fifth? — mimosa that Dan’s love life came up again — this time by his own doing.

“Louise, I hate to ask this, but can you please please _please_ come to a jewelry shop with me? I have no idea what you’re supposed to get your girlfriend for Valentine’s Day when you’re planning to break up with her the next day,” Dan whined.

“How about nothing?” Louise suggested bitterly.

Dan shot her a stern look as he pulled his coat on and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

“Fine, fine. Maybe Tiffany’s sells a necklace that you can engrave with _we’re over_.” Louise snickered.

“Hilarious.” Dan said through his teeth, pulling her down the street towards the shops. He was thankful that Louise had picked a brunch place on high street. “Like _fuck_ are we going to somewhere as expensive as _Tiffany’s_. You have a fifty pound budget and it has to be returnable, just in case.”

“Someone’s feeling generous,” Louise muttered sarcastically. 

“I’m doing the best I can, okay?” Dan stuck his tongue out at Louise, happy to at least be able to do such a shitty task with his best friend.

“Fine, fine,” Louise conceded, starting to look around more seriously for a place they could shop. “How about this one?” she asked, tugging Dan into a jeweller that was packed with desperate looking men and women, staring down at the cases like they were a life raft in the middle of the ocean. Louise dragged Dan over to the clearance counter, waving her hand politely at the saleswoman. 

She finished up with the man she’d just finished ringing up, and headed over to Dan and Louise.

“Hello, how can I help you today?”

“Hi!” Louise smiled brightly. “He’d like to buy the nicest thing you have under fifty pounds that isn’t final sale, please.” 

The woman’s eyes widened a little, but her tone remained that token customer-service cheerful. “We have a few options, I’m sure. What are you looking for sir? A necklace? Perhaps some earrings or a ring?”

“No!” Dan almost shouted. “Definitely _not_ a ring. Literally anything but a ring.” 

Dan looked at Louise and muttered under his breath, “I’d buy her a fucking broach before I bought her a ring.” Louise muffled her laughter into Dan’s shoulder and he had to cover his hand to quiet his own giggles.

The woman gave them a suspicious look but bent down to unlock the counter anyway, selected a few pieces of jewelry with her gloved hands, and placed them on a velvet tray. 

“Here you are, sir. I hope one of these will be to your liking.” The saleswoman sat the tray down on the table for Dan to look at.

Unsurprisingly, there weren’t _too_ many options. Dan knew that fifty pounds was an incredibly low budget, especially for a proper jewelry store, he just… didn’t care. He didn’t want to spend a single pence more than he had to on this. 

Dan pulled the tray down the table some, moving away from the clearance rack, where it seemed a few people were competing to look. Louise moved with him, hovering over the options the woman had pulled out for them, and contemplating each piece.

“The earrings are nice and delicate, but the necklace is a bit gaudy,” Louise hummed.

Dan eyed the two pieces. The earrings were nice — they were simple gold studs with tiny pearls. The necklace, on the other hand, was a large, round, black onyx pendant on a chunky gold chain. The color of the chain clashed horrendously with the pendant, even Dan knew enough about women’s jewelry to know that. 

“Great,” Dan pushed the tray back towards the saleswoman. “We’ll take the necklace, then.”

Both the saleswoman and Louise looked at Dan in shock. Louise sputtered, but the saleswoman tried to regain her composure, and finally said, “Wonderful! We’ve had this… _special_ piece for a while now. Would you like me to gift wrap it for you?” 

“Please,” Dan smiled, fluttering his eyes and pretending not to catch on to the woman’s subtle implications that the necklace was, in fact, hideous.

She wasn’t _wrong_. Dan just didn’t care. In fact, that was kind of the point.

While the saleswoman wrapped up the atrocious necklace, Louise poured over the cases and Dan fiddled on his phone. He noticed that Phil had DM’d him on twitter earlier.

 _Phil Lester:_ Hey! I thought you were coming by today?

Dan smiled, happy to discover that Phil still wanted to see him today. On Valentine’s Day of all days. Dan was quick to type a message back, not even bothering to censor his enthusiasm.

 _Daniel Howell:_ i will! Louise showed up for surprise brunch though, so i’ll be there on my way back from the shops 

The saleswoman came back, setting the wrapped box on the counter in front of Dan with a forced smile. “Anything else, sir?”

“Sorry, do you mind if I see those earrings?” Louise interrupted, pointing to a pair of pretty flower earrings with diamonds for petals.

“Of course, miss.” 

The earrings were even more beautiful up close. The center of the flower was a delicate, dimpled gold. They were earrings that Dan would easily consider buying for his mother or sister — he could see why Louise liked them.

“Dan, Dan, look how lovely they are,” Louise cooed.

“They are nice. I like the diamonds.”

“They’re actually part of our Mommy & Me collection,” the saleswoman said as she pulled out a pair of earrings from a neighboring case that neither of them had noticed. The earrings were similar to the first pair, but were smaller and had green stones instead of diamonds.

“Oh my gosh!” Louise gushed. “That’s so precious. Can you imagine Darcy and I running about in matching earrings?”

Dan smiled. “You both would look so adorable.”

“How much are they?” Louise asked.

“The Mommy ones are two-fifty and the daughter ones are one-fifty.”

Louise physically recoiled. “That’s too much,” she murmured. Dan looked over at Louise, who was still eyeing the beautiful pairs of earrings with a wistful smile.

“We’ll take them,” Dan said, pushing both pairs towards the sales woman.

The saleswoman’s eyebrows shot up, undoubtedly surprised that the customer who stomped in demanding something less than fifty pounds and bought the world’s ugliest necklace would impulse buy two pairs of earrings, each at least triple the price of his original budget.

“No no no no no, Dan.” Louise insisted. “Four hundred pounds for earrings for Darcy and I is _ridiculous_.”

Dan nodded to the saleswoman, signaling her to wrap up the earrings as well, and motioning to the cute “Mothers need Valentines, too!” bags next to the register. 

“Lou, you put up with more of my shit than anyone should ever have to, and we all know Darcy is my favorite human being on the planet. It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m short-changing my girlfriend, let me spoil my favorite ladies.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dan could see the saleswoman’s jaw _drop_ , but he didn’t respond. There was no point in trying to explain to her that his relationship was going to hell and he was breaking up with his girlfriend as soon as it was socially acceptable.

“Dan, really, we both know you love us. You don’t need to buy us expensive gifts.”

As Louise pleaded with Dan, the saleswoman motioned him down the counter, pointing to the register in front of her.

“Hush, I’m buying them.” Dan handed his credit card to the woman, smiling softly at Louise, who shook her head but didn’t say anything. When the saleswoman passed him back his card and the two bags, Dan handed the _Mother!_ bag to Louise with a sheepish grin.

“Thank you,” Louise said softly, pressing a small kiss to Dan’s cheek. Dan looped his arm through Louise’s, gently pulling her towards the exit of the shop. 

For a few minutes, Louise was content to walk in quiet peace. Dan should have known, though, that it wouldn’t last.

“So, when do I get to meet Phil?”

Dan blanched, tossing Louise a wary look.

“If you don’t introduce me to him, I’ll just stop by Beans and Grind to meet him myself.”

“Ugh, Louise. Soon, alright? _Soon_. I promise.”

 _Soon_ , Dan elaborated in his head, _when maybe I can introduce him as something other than a friend_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and to think some of yall actually thought dan was gonna dump her on valentines day smh. looks, here’s just some friendly, good bants. see, he’s a good boy :) 
> 
> (please, i want to hear all of your thoughts, though. tell me tell me tell me)
> 
>  
> 
> [read and reblog on tumblr](http://imnotinclinedtomaturity.tumblr.com/post/174105572465/love-yourself-chapter-11)


	12. 12 (14,919 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’d like to officially dedicate this chapter to @auroraphileas because she begged for me to write out a scene that ended up being 2.5k and i LOVE it. also, i thought i’d officially include a little spanish dictionary here for you (these are loose translations and the exact use of them tends to vary across countries, but this is good enough): tarado = dumbass/idiot. cabrón = asshole/bastard, querido = dear/love, puta = slut.
> 
>  **please be aware** of that there are a few extra warnings for this chapter. this chapter has some homophobia/biphobia in it

By eleven in the morning, there were only three red velvet muffins left — not that Phil was surprised, he’d been warned that they were a big seller. Still, he hadn’t expected to actually have to _save_ a muffin for Dan. When Phil had bribed him with a treat last night, he had assumed that Dan probably had a busy day planned and would come in early in the morning, before the muffins ran out, before Dan had to do… whatever romantic things he was doing today.

But by late morning, Dan still hadn’t shown up, and Phil couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.

Despite having no _right_ to see Dan on Valentine’s Day, Phil had hoped that Dan wouldn’t forget— or worse, get so caught up in spending time with Isabella that he just didn’t have time to stop by.

It was just that…

Sure. Dan had a girlfriend. A girlfriend that he had been dating for almost a year. And, okay, fine. Maybe it sounded like a pretty crap relationship — though, from the little snippets he heard from Dan and saw online, it seemed like they were making _some_ attempts to resolve a few of their differences.

But.

But, Phil couldn’t imagine how Dan could _possibly_ be in love with her. Everything he’d ever said about her had been lukewarm at best — usually downright bitter. Phil had never properly been in love himself, or at least he didn’t _think_ he had, but he’d watched enough friends pair off that he was positive that people truly in love were a lot happier when they talked about their relationships than Dan was when he talked about his own. They usually mentioned their partners in casual conversation, and they usually didn’t _flinch_ when someone else mentioned their partner’s name. Dan _never_ talked about Isabella; he even abruptly changed the subject whenever she came up.

And then there was how Dan acted around Phil.

Phil knew Dan had been lacking a friend he could talk about nerdy things with. Phil knew Dan had been wanting a friend he wasn’t connected to professionally. But those needs didn’t quite explain why Dan spent so much free time at Beans and Grind — and apparently only when Phil was working, if Emmalee was to be trusted — or chatting with Phil so often on twitter, both publicly and privately.

Or why Dan had spent nearly four hours on skype with Phil last night.

Up until yesterday, Phil hadn’t been sure whether or not Dan was really interested in Phil, if the tension between them really was… everything Phil imagined it to be.

But last night, when they’d skyped… Phil’s doubts had _melted_ , leaving a quiet reassurance in its wake _._ Dan had seemed so… free while they skyped. And on twitter, he’d been so… talkative. Phil couldn’t believe that _that_ much chemistry could be just in his head. Dan _had_ to feel it, too.

It had taken Phil the entire skype call to edit a fourteen minute video — and that was on top of the half hour he’d already put into it before Dan had called. Simple videos (like this one) normally took him two hours, _maybe_ three if he fumbled a lot while filming, but he’d just been so _damn_ _distracted_ by Dan that he couldn’t focus as well as he normally could.

Not that he was complaining. Glancing at the bottom left corner of his screen and seeing a little live feed of Dan had been a much welcomed distraction. He had looked adorable while he was working on his song. Whenever the guitar had been silent for too long, Phil’s eyes had been drawn towards Dan, wanting to check if he was still there, if he was working on something different, if he was just thinking. Most of the time, Dan’s face had been scrunched up in concentration, lip pulled into his mouth and eyes staring at the ceiling as if it held the answer Dan was looking for. Phil hadn’t been able to restrain himself from taking a screenshot.

During their call, Dan had said a few things that caught Phil’s attention, that made him really question his conclusion that he’d just been imagining Dan’s feelings for Phil. Dan had mentioned — a few times — that he loved being able to work alongside someone, that their call was the most relaxing thing he’d done in a long time, that he felt _comfortable_ , that he was _happy_.

And the way Dan had said those things, hushed and sincere, paired with the look that had sparkled in his eyes, made Phil so, so sure that there was something more than platonic gratitude buried beneath those words.

Especially since Phil had so often listened to Dan complain about the fact that Isabella, his _girlfriend_ , was never interested in sharing those parts of his life — a fact that seemed to deeply upset Dan, even if he did usually brush it off.

Even now, knowing that Dan was in a relationship, Phil’s heart soared when he thought about the fact that there was a very real possibility that his feelings for Dan weren’t going unreciprocated. That meant there was hope. Maybe.

At half past eleven, a customer came in and bought a red velvet muffin, leaving only two. Phil sighed and waited until the customer left before slyly taking a muffin out of the display case, setting it on a plate, and hiding it on a shelf behind the counter. He didn’t know for sure if Dan was still planning to come, but Phil _really_ didn’t want Dan to show up and have the store be out of the coveted pastry.

Every time the bell on the door chimed, Phil’s heart jumped a little, and his eyes snapped to the entrance to see if it was Dan.

It never was. Over and over again, Phil found himself disappointed.

Eventually, someone came in and bought the last muffin, and Phil was eternally grateful that he’d sequestered one for Dan. He checked his phone, noting that a half an hour had passed, and caved into his own anxieties. Before he could lose his nerve, Phil typed a DM to Dan, and pressed send.

 _Phil Lester:_ Hey! I thought you were coming by today?

It wasn’t until the message was sent and sitting in Dan’s inbox that Phil read it over. He cringed at how desperate and decidedly _not casual_ he sounded. Regardless of his new confidence that things with Dan _probably_ weren’t one-sided, Phil didn’t want to come on too strong — especially not while Dan was dating Isabella.

Fuck. _Isabella_.

For the briefest of moments, Phil had allowed himself to forget, to get carried away in his desires for Dan, and ignore her existence entirely. Phil really hoped she didn’t see that message.

Grabbing a rag out of the bin, Phil set to work wiping down the counter, eager for a distraction. Too late to do anything about the message now.

As the afternoon continued to wear on, Phil found himself clicking the home button on his phone every couple of minutes, checking if Dan had messaged him back — something that was particularly pathetic since his phone was on loud and if Dan _had_ messaged him back, Phil would have undoubtedly heard the notification.

Phil worried that Dan had forgotten, or that he had changed his mind — and honestly, Phil wasn’t sure which would hurt more. Regardless, his needy DM would surely come across as clingy in both cases, inevitably scaring Dan off. Phil could only hope that neither of those were true.

But to Phil’s great relief, Dan eventually replied. It took him nearly an _hour_ , but he replied.

 _Daniel Howell:_ i will! louise showed up for surprise brunch though, so i’ll be there on my way back from the shops

Phil breathed out a relieved sigh as a rush of worry washed out of his body. Not only was Dan still planning to come to Beans and Grind today, he was coming later than Phil expected because of plans with _Louise_ , not Isabella. Maybe Phil had no right to be happy about that, but he was.

For the first time all morning, Phil didn’t even resent the love-themed playlist playing softly out of the store speakers.

While Phil waited to hear from Dan, three separate customers came in, all asking for red velvet muffins. Phil felt a little guilty that there was one left, hidden behind the counter, especially when he didn’t know for sure if Dan was coming or not. But he apologized to each person, telling them that hopefully they’d make them again soon.

Luckily, Phil didn’t have to wait long for Dan after he messaged back. He only had time to wipe down three tables before he glanced up and saw Dan outside the door. He was standing with his back to the door, facing a girl that Phil was pretty sure was Louise, if he was remembering from Dan’s instagram correctly. Phil moved to a table by the window, suddenly committed to doing a very thorough job of cleaning. Or at least a thorough job of this one particular table.

Phil scanned the pair of them more closely now. They were both holding bags from a jeweler — apparently that was the shops Dan had been talking about. Phil’s stomach turned uneasily as he thought about the fact that whatever was in Dan’s bag was probably expensive, gorgeous, and for Isabella.

The window glass was incredibly thin, which usually annoyed Phil because the passing cars and screaming children were barely muffled, but at this moment in time, Phil was unbelievably grateful. Listening carefully, he could just make out their conversation.

God, was he a terrible person for eavesdropping?

“Please, please, please, please?” Louise was whining.

“No, Lou. I said you can meet him soon and I meant _soon_ , not, like, _today_.” Dan sounded adamant. Although, if Phil knew Dan as well as he _thought_ he did, Dan also sounded a little embarrassed. A little like he was _begging_ Louise to agree to whatever he was suggesting.

It was the word _him_ that really caught Phil’s attention. Who was _him?_ Who could Dan _possibly_ be feeling so shy about? Who could he be trying to avoid introducing Louise to today — on Valentine’s Day of all days? Phil tried to remember if Dan had mentioned any new guys in his life. Maybe someone from work? But why would Louise think that _today_ would be a good day to meet them?

“But Da _aaan_ ,” Louise whined as she tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. She was smiling though, and Phil could tell that she wasn’t being too serious about whatever it was that she was complaining about.

“I promise. Soon, okay? Just let me get through tonight and tomorrow morning in peace and then we can talk about… that.”

Phil didn’t have any idea what _that_ could possibly be about, but he was smart enough to know that tonight most likely meant some kind of plans with Isabella. It might have been wishful thinking, but Phil wasn’t sure that Dan sounded particularly excited for tonight.

“Ugh, if you insist,” Louise said with an eyeroll so dramatic that Phil could see it from inside. At this point, he’d dropped any pretense of wiping down the tables by the window. “I expect you to call me as soon as you’re done with breakfast tomorrow.”

“Of course I will,” Dan reassured her. “If you’re not still at Tom’s, we can meet for coffee.”

“Here?” There were a few beats of silence before Louise laughed — Dan must have made some sort of amusing face. Phil wished Dan’s back wasn’t to the window.

That’s when a realization hit Phil like a bombshell: Louise wanted to meet some guy in Dan’s life. Dan had promised soon, but not today. Louise was trying to schedule their coffee date at _Beans and Grind._

Could Phil be who Louise was pushing Dan to let her meet?

But why would she be practically begging for an introduction? Unless…

Unless Louise had reason to believe something _was_ going on between Dan and Phil.

Against his better judgement, Phil’s stomach flipped over at that thought, his heart soaring. There was a chance that Dan liked him. Maybe not a big chance, but a chance.

“Do you really think _here_ is the appropriate place to talk about Izzy?” Dan asked, sounding exasperated. _Oh, shit._ Louise was wanting to hear about Dan’s date. Did that mean whatever was happening at brunch tomorrow had something to do with Isabella, too?

“Fine, fine. We can go to the place by mine. Let me know if it’s safe to bring Darcy. I want all the details of breakfast.”

“I’ll censor as necessary, bring her. I want to see her in her new earrings.”

 _Censor?_ What the _hell_ was Dan doing at breakfast tomorrow — potentially breakfast with Isabella — that Dan would need to _censor_ in front of a child? It was _breakfast_ for god’s sake. The suspense of it was killing him, but it wasn’t like Phil could just ask Dan what his big breakfast plans were tomorrow, not without giving away the fact that he’d been eavesdropping.

He’d just have to hold onto _that_ knowledge, and try not to think about it too much.

“Okay! I guess I’ll be going now, since you’re so rudely abandoning me. Thank you again for the pretty earrings, Uncle Dan!” Louise said sweetly, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to Dan’s cheek. As she pulled away, she glanced towards the window, her eyes meeting Phil’s. Phil froze, humiliated that he’d been caught out, positive that Louise was going to tell Dan that someone had blatantly been listening in on their conversation.

She didn’t though. Louise held Phil’s gaze through the window for a second, a sly smile spreading across her face, before she turned on her heel and walked away. Phil barely had time to spin around so his back was facing the window and begin cleaning a different table before he heard the chime of the door, quickly followed by Dan’s happy sounding voice.

“Hello there, Philip. Were you worried I forgot about you?”

Phil stopped wiping the table and turned to face Dan in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. Dan was waltzing into the store, unzipping his coat, and shrugging out of it to reveal an out of character pink sweater that contrasted heavily with his black jeans. Phil stared for just a second before pulling himself out of his thoughts. He shouldn’t let himself get wrapped up in Dan’s outfit choices. Even if Dan _did_ look unexpectedly hot in pink.

“It was getting late and we were running low on muffins,” Phil smiled. “Just thought I’d check in.”

That sounded casual, right?

“Am I too late?” Dan looked alarmed.

“Of course not, I saved you one.” Phil jerked his head to the counter, leading Dan over. As Phil circled around the bar, Dan hopped up on one of the stools, leaning impatiently across the counter.

“Was that Louise?” Phil asked, tossing his wash rag into the backroom, before joining Dan at the front counter.

“Huh?” Dan asked, clearly trying and failing to sound ignorant. “When?”

Phil motioned to the window. “Just now. The girl you were out there with. I saw you through the window.”

“Oh, yup. That’s her.” Dan’s voice was dismissive. Phil narrowed his eyes.

“Why didn’t she come in? I’ve been wanting to meet her,” he pressed.

“She, um, she, had to uh, get home to Darcy,” Dan explained, _sounding_ as shifty as he looked.

Phil reflected back on the conversation he’d overheard between Dan and Louise. It hadn’t _seemed_ like Louise was in a hurry. In fact, she’d seemed kind of miffed that Dan was leaving her, that he… wasn’t inviting her in.

Maybe Phil was right after all. Maybe the guy Louise was so adamant about meeting _was_ Phil. Carefully, Phil considered Dan.

“Ah, shame,” Phil said, deciding to let Dan off easy and not push the issue. “Louise sounds fun. I thought you were going to introduce me!”

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t going to push the issue _much_.

“ _Soon_ , okay, _soon_. Just let me —” Dan abruptly stopped talking, closing his eyes and shaking his head, as if to clear his thoughts. “ _Soon_.”

Soon. Just like he’d promised Louise.

_Interesting._

Deciding that he’d pried enough information out of Dan for _today_ , and not completely sure what to make of any of it anyway, Phil dropped the conversation. He knew he should bend down and get Dan’s muffin, but he lingered for a moment, opting to take in Dan’s appearance instead. The pink sweater he was wearing suited him, weirdly, and somehow the black hem of it matched his ripped black skinny jeans.

“You look so… edgy soft.” Phil was at a loss for more coherent words.

Cutely, Dan pulled the long sleeves over his hands, turning his hands into adorable sweater paws. “Shut up,” he muttered. “Louise bought me it, I couldn’t say no to wearing it.”

“I like it,” Phil complimented earnestly — he hoped not too earnestly.

“You sure?” Dan sounded skeptical. “How does it look? Is it kind of cool, or do I look like cupid? A sad cupid?”

“You’re pulling it off. You look a bit like a sad cupid, but more like a cool, cute cupid, actually. It works.”

“Yeah?” Dan asked tentatively, a blush rising to his cheeks. “A cute cupid?”

“The cutest,” Phil grinned. “Cute enough to earn a muffin. Last one actually.”

Phil slid the plated muffin towards him, accidentally brushing the back of his hand along Dan’s inner forearm. Simultaneously, both of their eyes snapped up, meeting. Dan’s eyes bore into Phil’s for a moment before he averted his gaze downward with an awkward cough.

“Thanks, Philly.” Dan smiled up at Phil through his eyelashes. The expression, the nickname that so naturally rolled off his tongue, the fleeting _touch_ , had Phil convinced that his heart skipped a beat. Or five.

As Dan turned his attention down to his muffin, he inspected the white icing delicately drizzled across the top, looking a little awed at the perfect presentation. “It looks so pretty,” he murmured, reaching for his phone and taking it out of his pocket. Carefully, he angled it toward the muffin. His right hand moved to hold the treat in front of the camera the red of the muffin looking perfectly Valentinesy against Dan’s pink and black sweater. It was then that Phil finally noticed — was Dan left handed?

The massive iphone balanced in Dan’s _left_ hand didn’t look nearly as precarious as it would have if Phil was holding it with his left hand — or right, for that matter really — and, if anything, Dan’s right hand looked much more unsure as it held the sugary treat, even though it was only a muffin.

Phil stored that information away, even though it objectively wasn’t very exciting. He liked learning new things about Dan, and he would take any information he could get, trivial or not. After all, unless Dan broke up with Isabella and… _something_ more happened between Dan and Phil, it might be all Phil would ever get.

After snapping a few pictures, Dan placed the muffin back down onto the plate, instantly becoming engrossed with his phone for a few minutes. Unsure what to do with himself, Phil went about cleaning up the front counter a little, shifting things around, and making sure everything looked nice and neat. There wasn’t much to clean up, but it was enough to keep Phil looking busy, and close to Dan.

Seconds before Dan set his phone on the counter, Phil’s phone let off a loud _ding_ from his back pocket. Phil had a feeling he knew what Dan had been doing on his phone, especially judging by the expectant smirk Dan was staring at him with. Phil couldn’t tell if Dan’s amused, cocky look was because whatever Dan had just done had something to do with Phil, or if Dan was just smug about the fact that Phil obviously still had him on notifications.

Shaking his head slightly, Phil pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Just as he’d expected, there was a twitter notification that _@danielhowell_ had tweeted — tweeted a picture that he’d posted on instagram, actually. Phil, however, hadn’t expected the preview to include his handle. Swiping on the notification, Phil opened the app so he could see the full tweet.

 _@danielhowell:_ guys look @AmazingPhil got me the tastiest looking muffin of all time. don’t tell my mum but i think i’m having dessert in the middle of the day [picture]

Attached was one of the pictures that Dan had just taken, the muffin slightly more in focus than the rest of the surroundings, the pink of Dan’s sleeve barely in focus enough for Phil to make out the pixelated hearts. Briefly, Phil wondered if people would see the outline of the dark red torso beyond Dan’s arm and speculate that it was Phil. Even more fleetingly, Phil wondered if he cared.

Tapping like on the tweet, Phil decided to wait to respond until later. He clicked the lock button, and pocketed his phone, grinning up at Dan. With the exception of a small nod of his head, Dan gave no acknowledgment to the tweet he _must_ have known that Phil had just seen.

In lieu of saying anything else, Dan finally reached out and broke off a piece of the top of the muffin, a part with icing drizzled across it. Still stuck on Dan’s tweet, Phil barely registered Dan popping the bite into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” Dan mumbled through his mouthful, letting out a pornographic moan — a noise that went straight to Phil’s cock, causing it to stir a little in interest. Embarassed by how easily Dan could rile him up, Phil shuffled closer to the bar, making sure his waist was completely out of sight _just in case_.

“That’s fucking amazing,” Dan continued when he’d swallowed his bite, his eyes fluttering closed appreciatively.

“Is it?” Phil asked, trying to force his voice to stay even and not reflect the sudden arousal that Dan’s noises had sparked. “I didn’t get a chance to try one.”

“You didn’t?” Dan sounded scandalized. He promptly broke another bite off the muffin, a piece from the top that was generously drizzled with icing. With a mischievous look in his eyes, and a small smirk pulling at his lips, Dan offered the piece to Phil. Smiling, Phil muttered a quick thanks, and went to reach for the muffin.

At the last minute, Dan’s hand swerved away, pulling back so that Phil couldn’t reach the treat without practically _crawling_ across the bar. Surprised, Phil blinked rapidly, before catching on to Dan’s teasing expression.

“Daa _aaan_!” Phil whined, trying to bite back his own grin “That wasn’t very nice!” Phil crossed his arms and stuck out his bottom lip petulantly.

“Oh dear…” Dan teased, waving the bit of muffin around and causing Phil’s pout to deepen. “Oh _dear_ , does someone want some muffin?”

Phil chomped at the air. “Gimm _eee_. I wanna taste it.” Phil tried to glare at Dan, settling his lips back into a pout, but it was difficult to maintain his composure. He was on the verge of cracking, of letting a beaming smile take over.

Dan hummed, eyes dancing with mirth, and moved the bite back towards Phil. Phil had no faith that Dan was actually going to let Phil take the muffin, so he held his pout, expecting Dan to pull away tauntingly again.

Phil was right in assuming that Dan wasn’t done playing with him yet, but was so very, very wrong in what he’d guessed Dan would do.

“Come on then, have some,” Dan said, slowly moving his hand from in between them, and up towards Phil’s mouth. Phil’s eyes flickered from the muffin to Dan’s face, just to find Dan staring back at him impishly. Slightly intimidated by the playful look on Dan’s face, Phil dropped his gaze back down to the muffin, which Dan was still holding in front of Phil’s mouth. Phil’s eyes narrowed, not sure how far Dan was expecting him to take this.

Coquettishly, Dan closed the distance between them, and pressed the bit of muffin against Phil’s mouth. It felt soft against Phil’s lower lip, which was still stuck out — a stark contrast to the calloused pads of Dan’s fingers that were grazing Phil’s mouth. His stomach a ball of nerves, Phil found the courage to look up at Dan, and found that his eyes were flickering between Phil’s lips and his eyes.

The look in Dan’s eyes, the feeling of his fingers against Phil’s lips… it was all intoxicating. Phil could feel the tension between them, tugging at him, urging him to _do something._

Slowly, Phil parted his lips, and let Dan push the muffin into his mouth. His fingers went with it, pushing past Phil’s lips far more than strictly necessary. Phil was mesmerized, watching how Dan moved, how his eyes fixated on Phil’s mouth, how his fingers looked as they slipped inside. Phil’s stomach clenched — this time not with nerves.

 _Two can play that game_ , he thought.

With what he hoped was a seductive look, Phil closed his mouth, wrapping his lips securely around Dan’s fingers. He sucked, just a _little_ , as if he were trying to get the frosting off of Dan’s fingers, but didn’t bite down right away to take the muffin between his teeth. As Phil stared at Dan, he could have _sworn_ he heard Dan make a strangled noise, his eyes flashing up to meet Phil’s. Their gazes locked, and a charged look passed between them.

Dan was right, the muffin _was_ good — although, to be honest, Phil was much more focused on having a part of _Dan_ in his _mouth_. Phil’s mind couldn’t help leaping to _other_ reasons he might have some part of Dan in his mouth, and he had to hold back his own pornographic moan. Unlike Dan, it had nothing to do with the flavor. Judging by the pleased smirk on Dan’s face, Phil knew he’d heard, but it was impossible to tell if Dan realized just _why_ Phil was moaning.

Dan pulled his fingers out of Phil’s mouth, and reached back down to break another bite off the muffin without wiping his fingers off first. Carefully, he popped the bite into his own mouth, never once letting his gaze fall from Phil’s. Seductively, he drew his fingers into his mouth, his tongue deliberately licking the remaining frosting off of each digit. Phil’s eyes hungrily followed his movements.

Dan’s pupils were wide. There was a knowing glint in his eyes. The bastard was fully aware of what he was doing.

Phil ripped his gaze away from Dan, away from his eyes, his fingers, his mouth, unable to continue looking at Dan without giving into the temptation to do… _something_. His heart was racing, and it wasn’t from the sudden intake of sugar, _that_ was for sure.

“So, uh,” Phil said, glancing around them, scrambling for something to say. His gaze fell on the bag Dan had set on the counter, and he pounced on it. “Did you really leave your shopping until today?” he ended up blurting out.

Phil had no idea what possessed him to ask _that_. It’s not like he really wanted to hear about whatever was in the bag — or anything else to do with Isabella for that matter. _Especially_ not after that little display of flirtation.

Dan didn’t seem particularly inclined to talk about the bag either. His cheeks heated up, flushing red. “Er, yeah. I guess so. I haven’t had a ton of time recently, and it just kind of… didn’t happen,” he said with an awkward shrug.

“Hmm,” Phil muttered, trying to mask his skepticism. Dan was claiming that he hadn’t had much free time, time where he could have gone shopping for Isabella, but lately he’d been spending _hours_ at Beans and Grind, usually just chatting, only _sometimes_ working. Phil had a hard time believing that Dan couldn’t have found _some_ time to take a ten minute tube ride to high street and buy something.

His suspicions must have shown on his face because Dan gave another small shrug of his shoulders and added on, “I guess I didn’t really care that much, either. I could have made time if I tried. Fuck knows I did for other stuff.”

Phil wondered if Dan was thinking about all the time he’d spent at Beans and Grind, too.

Still, even though Phil hated that Dan was with Isabella, was even secretly rooting for him to _finally_ dump her, Dan’s apathetic attitude towards his relationship left a bitter taste in Phil’s mouth. Was Dan always this careless with his partners?

Dan was such a good friend, always seemed so genuinely interested in Phil’s life. From what Phil heard about Louise and Adaline, Dan was equally invested in those relationships. And Phil had seen Dan with Darcy — he clearly looked at that little girl like she was the most important thing on the planet.

So was Dan’s neglectful attitude specific to Isabella, or was he this way with all of his romantic partners?

“Jesus, Dan, are you always this much of a prick when you date someone?” The words were out of Phil’s mouth before he could stop himself.

From the stricken look on Dan’s face, Phil knew he’d fucked up. Dan’s eyes were blown wide, filled with alarm, and his posture had gone rigid. Phil half expected Dan to stand up and walk out without saying anything else.

He didn’t though.

Instead, something in Dan seemed to snap, his shoulders slumping inwards, head hanging in defeat, completely silent.

Phil felt awful.

He stared at Dan, hoping he would look back up, but his attention was focused resolutely on his lap. As the seconds wore on, Dan seemed less and less inclined to willingly look at Phil.

Why had Phil thought that was an acceptable thing to say? Dan _never_ talked about his romantic life, he rarely even mentioned Isabella’s name. And yet, Phil had essentially accused him of being a shit boyfriend.

Not sure how to fix it, Phil set about making a coffee — a triple espresso with one sugar. The entire time Phil was making it, Dan didn’t say anything, didn’t even look up. When the coffee was done, Phil dropped a single ice cube into it — a habit he’d started after Dan burnt his tongue for the third time — and slid it across the counter.

“I’m sorry, I guess I can be a right arse, too,” Phil apologized.

Dan looked first at the coffee, then bashfully up at Phil. “Thanks.” He took a sip — a sip that _didn’t_ scorch his tongue — and smiled softly. “I’m not usually though, I swear. A giant prick, I mean.”

“I’m sure you’re not, I don’t know why I said that,” Phil said softly.

Dan shrugged. “Because I’m being a prick. To Isabella, at the very least.”

Phil wasn’t sure why Dan tacked the _at the very least_ on to the end of his sentence, but he figured now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. Instead, he did his best to make up for his own mistake. “I still shouldn’t have said it. Your relationship with Isabella isn’t any of my business.”

For some reason, Dan opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, looking rather like a fish. After snapping his mouth shut a fourth time, Dan kept it shut, apparently giving up on whatever he was going to say. Phil’s brow furrowed, unable to fathom what Dan might have _wanted_ to say, but unable to make himself _ask_. After all, it really was none of his business… right?

Silence filled the coffee shop then, while Dan sipped on his coffee and Phil busied himself with wiping down the espresso machine, even though it wasn’t particularly messy. It wasn’t the tense, uncomfortable silence from a few minutes ago, though; it was calmer, more pensive. It was the kind of silence Phil enjoyed, especially when he got to share it with Dan.

This time, Dan was the one to eventually break it.

“So I know you said you don’t have any hot plans today, but are you doing anything to celebrate this joyous day of love?” The last bit of Dan’s question came out slightly sarcastically.

Aren’t people in relationships supposed to enjoy the whole celebration-of-love thing?

“What’s there to celebrate?” Phil scoffed, abandoning his attempts at cleaning. “I’ve been incredibly single for, like, six months.”

Dan perked up at that, sitting up straighter and setting his coffee down. “Oh? What happened? To whoever you were dating?”

“We broke up when I started thinking seriously about moving to London.” Phil explained with a a shrug. He didn’t particularly want to talk about it — it was more of a long-lasting fling than anything, really. _That_ relationship definitely wasn’t the impression Phil wanted to leave Dan with.

“So what now?” Dan asked, resting on his elbows, leaning in closer towards Phil. “No prospects since, then?”

Phil wasn’t sure what Dan was playing at. It’s not like Phil was going to give the honest answer to that question — that yes, there very much was someone he was interested in, it just happened to be a very unavailable famous singer. An honest answer that Phil had a sneaking suspicion that Dan knew, if the shameless flirting was anything to go by.

Floundering, Phil grasped desperately for an excuse, anything he could say that wasn’t _it’s because of you_. “Well,” Phil chuckled awkwardly, “it’s not like I was going to join grindr, right? I didn’t want to end up on a date with a crazy fan.”

There, that wasn’t a complete lie.

A knowing smirk crossed Dan’s face, but Phil wasn’t sure if it was because Dan knew about the troubles of joining dating sites while being _famous,_ or if it was because Phil had very definitively just confirmed that he dated _guys_.

Whatever it was seemed to make Dan happy.

“That’s a good choice. Grindr is sketchy enough when you’re _not_ famous.”

Phil was worried that Dan would keep pushing, that he would ask if Phil had met anyone in real life, if he was interested in anyone, if he’d been on any dates since he moved to London.

Phil really wasn’t prepared to answer any of those questions.

But Dan didn’t. He turned the conversation from Phil’s love life to a tv show that Phil had recommended to him a few weeks ago, and from there, their conversation spiraled.

Dan stayed longer than Phil thought he would — almost two and a half hours. Phil had assumed that since Dan had a date that night, he wouldn’t hang out like he normally did. But Dan stayed long enough to drink his entire first coffee — which Phili had put in a to-go cup, just in case Dan was too mad at him to stick around — eat the whole muffin, and drink a second coffee.

As the afternoon wore on, Dan’s flirting only became more flagrant.

Dan insisted on splitting his muffin, swearing that since he’d had pancakes for breakfast, he would probably die of a sugar rush if he ate the whole thing alone. Every _single_ bite that Dan shared with Phil — which had to be nearly half of the giant muffin — Dan fed directly to Phil, fingers brushing Phil’s lips every time, eyes intensely bearing into Phil’s. The novelty of Dan’s fingers against Phil’s lips didn’t fade. In fact, Phil was convinced that the sparks he felt when Dan was touching him, was touching his lips, wouldn’t ever go away.

Phil couldn’t help but wonder how big those sparks would feel if something, anything other than Dan’s _fingertips,_ were against his lips.

When the muffin was gone and Dan’s second drink was empty, he dropped a crumpled tenner on the counter, much to Phil’s annoyance.

Phil tried to shove the money back at Dan. “No, the muffin was a promise from last night and the coffee was an apology for being an ass. Keep your money.”

“And the second coffee?” Dan said, sounding confident that he’d won.

 _A Valentine’s Day gift_ , Phil wanted to say.

“A reward for sharing the muffin,” Phil said instead.

Dan flicked the balled up money back at Phil. “Nope, you don’t get to buy me things. Not like this, anyway.”

Before Phil could make sense of what Dan had said, Dan leaned all the way across the counter and pressed a dramatic kiss to the middle of Phil’s forehead.

A shock ran down Phil’s spine, reaching all the way into his toes when Dan’s lips pressed against his face.

_What in the —_

Had Dan really just done that? Had he really just kissed Phil’s forehead?

“Have a good rest of your Valentine’s Day, Philly, this sad cupid has to go now.” Dan rocked back on his heels, pulling his coat back on, and sending Phil a cocky grin.

“Cute cupid,” Phil corrected without thinking.

Dan’s arrogant smile turned bashful, his dimple prominent on his face. “Are you working tomorrow?” he asked with a hint of hesitation.

Phil blinked. “On youtube stuff, but not here.”

“Fancy a drink when we’re both done working then?”

Phil’s eyes opened so wide that he was almost concerned they were going to fall right out of his head. “I, um, good.”

_Well, that was eloquent._

“Good,” Dan’s smile widened, somehow, and Phil noticed that he had a second, smaller dimple on his other cheek. “DM me on twitter when you’re done working and we’ll figure something out.”

Before Phil could muster up the courage to stop Dan, to just ask him for his _bloody phone number_ already, Dan shot Phil a two fingered salute, turned around, and fled the shop.

Sighing, Phil resigned himself to being stuck talking to Dan through twitter for the rest of his life, because clearly, he was too much of a coward to get his fucking number.

Dan was only gone for five minutes before the painstaking boredom of working at a tiny coffee shop in the middle of the day on Valentine’s Day sunk in. Glancing at the door to make sure he was well and truly alone, Phil pulled his phone back out. When he unlocked it, Phil was greeted by Dan’s muffin tweet, which he’d never exited out of. Curious what people were saying, Phil swiped down to refresh the replies.

 _@sillyphilly123:_ WHY ARE @danielhowll AND @AmazingPhil TOGETHER ON VALENTINES DAY

 _@danielmylove:_ I love buying my bro Valentine’s Day bro-muffins @AmazingPhil @danielhowell

As Phil skimmed, he realized that there were many, many more tweets like those. Tweets focusing on the fact that him and Dan were spending at least _some_ of Valentine’s Day together. As uneasy as Phil normally felt when his viewers pried too closely in his personal life, he couldn’t help scrolling through their replies, imagining what life might be like if the implications of their tweets were true.

There were some tweets that tried to refute those implications, though — particularly from a group of people with some variation of _danella_ as their twitter handle, which Phil was pretty sure was Dan and Isabella’s ship name.

 _@danellaforever:_ everyone calm the fuck down i’m sure @AmazingPhil and @danielhowll are just doing something for work

 _@ishipdanella:_ guys @IsabellaDeLaRenta tweeted about coming back to London just to spend the day with @danielhowell, @AmazingPhil is just a friend.

 _@danismyboyfriend:_ WTF are you guys on about? Dan’s not gay. He’s dated a bunch of girls -.-

As much as Phil wanted the first tweets to be the ones that were true, it was the second camp, the _danella_ shippers, that were probably more accurate.

And then there was another tweet that made Phil chuckle — it was the only reply that Dan had responded to.

 _@AdalineHowell:_ @danielhowell too late bro mum already saw your tweet

 _@danielhowell:_ @AdalineHowell oh great now i’m going to get a lecture about health and eating more grapefruit

Phil was about to close out of twitter all together, bored and planning on looking through the comments of his most recent video, when a notification dropped down from the top of his screen.

Dan had tweeted, and from the looks of it, he’d tagged Phil in his tweet. Again.

It was a poll attached to a picture of Dan, leaning against a wall with one foot casually crossed in front of the other. He’d taken the picture in front of a big, ornate mirror that showed off Dan’s full outfit, both the soft pink sweater and the edgy ripped jeans.

 _@danielhowell:_ me and @AmazingPhil are having a bit of a tiff. i think i look like a sad cupid but he says i look like a cute cupid. who’s right?

        dan?  
        phil?

Phil clicked on his name immediately, and was pleased to see his opinion — that Dan looked undeniably _cute_ in his pink sweater and ripped jeans — was overwhelmingly winning. It was early yet, but only about eight percent of the votes agreed with Dan.

Grinning, and determined to make the percentage of people that thought Dan looked sad even smaller, Phil retweeted Dan’s tweet, adding:

 _@AmazingPhil:_ Everyone should go vote and tell @danielhowell that he does in fact look like a cute Valentine’s Day cupid in his new sweater.

********************************

When Dan got home, he realized he only had about an hour before he had to leave for Isabella’s. She’d made him promise to be at her flat by half past five. Apparently they had reservations at seven and she wanted to have time to have a drink and exchange gifts before they left for dinner. Dan knew he should pick up flowers on his way there, something he probably should have done earlier today before the shops ran low of selections, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret how he’d spent his day.

Brunch with Louise had been wonderful. It was a relief to talk about his problems with Isabella — and finally confess his feelings for Phil. He’d always valued Louise’s opinion, a fact that made his belated realization about his relationship with Izzy sting all the more.

His afternoon at the coffee shop had been exactly what he wanted, too. Dan knew he’d always been a little flirty with Phil. In hindsight, he probably should have waited until he’d officially ended things with Isabella to consciously flirt, to make an active decision to intensify his flirting.

Not to mention that he’d _just_ committed to taking a bit of time to himself before he properly made a move on Phil.

But Dan had been riding the high of commiting to breaking up with Isabella, of committing to eventually doing something about his feelings for Phil, that he hadn’t had the willpower to hold himself back. He hadn’t done anything that technically counted as cheating, although kissing Phil’s forehead might have been a bit much in hindsight.

He was just an affectionate person, though, and he was used to showing his affection through physical touch. Him and Louise kissed each other’s cheeks all the time (not that Isabella was particularly happy about that habit). It wasn’t like he’d lingered when he kissed Phil’s forehead —he’d wanted too, but he hadn’t. In fact, he’d been rather dramatic and over the top about the whole thing, which Dan hoped took some of the too-flirtatious edge off.

Dan messed around on twitter and instagram for a while before actually bothering to get ready. Unwilling to change out of the comfortable sweater right away, he snapped a picture of his Valentine’s Day themed outfit and set up a poll on twitter, because apparently tweeting about Phil once today wasn’t enough. He was mostly kidding when he said he thought he looked like a sad cupid; truth be told, he’d probably wear the sweater again, and not just for a special occasion. Dan couldn’t help giggling when he saw Phil retweet his poll almost immediately, urging everyone to vote for his opinion. He gave himself another few minutes of staring at the poll wrack up votes, before he finally gave in to getting ready.

With a small sigh, Dan dropped his phone on his bed and made his way to his closet, rifling through his options. Even though he couldn’t remember the exact restaurant they were going to, Dan knew he undoubtedly needed to wear a suit. He looked at the suits he owned — the black and white stripe jacket, the one with the leather lapels, the fitted white pants. As much as he liked — preferred even — those more interesting pieces, he knew Isabella would kill him if he showed up in anything other than his plain black suit with a crisp white shirt.

In the one act of rebellion that Dan felt comfortable taking, Dan pulled on a black bowtie. He knew Isabella hated when he wore bowties. She always argued that they were too pretentious, and besides, she loved running his tie between her fingers, liked tugging on it like a leash when they were in private. Tonight, Dan was determined not to give her that satisfaction, that power.

When Dan was fully dressed, he pocketed his phone and his wallet, and pulled on his nice black peacoat. He was halfway out the door before he remembered Isabella’s present. He doubled back and tucked the small rectangular box into the inside pocket of his coat with a deep sigh of regret. He wished he could just break up with her _today_.

It was a little early to be leaving, but Dan figured he could use the extra time by walking instead of taking an uber. Plus, he really should buy some flowers on his way there. It was the right thing to do.

On his way to the flower shop, Dan pulled out his phone, curious how his twitter poll was doing. Not that he was surprised, but Phil was winning. He was, however, caught off guard by just how _dramatically_ Phil was winning. A whopping _three percent_ agreed with Dan.

Chuckling, Dan typed another tweet about the poll, debating for a split second about whether or not he should tag Phil.

 _@danielhowell:_ you’re all traitors and i’m pretty sure @AmazingPhil cheated by telling everyone to vote for his opinion.

Rather than going straight into the flower shop, Dan stopped right outside of it and read the replies to his tweet as they trickled in. He knew that once he put his phone away, he probably wouldn’t be able to check twitter again until he got home that night, and he really wanted to bask in this one moment of open affection with his fans (and Phil) before he had to put on a fake smile for Isabella. He liked a few of the more clever, funny tweets that made him laugh, and dithered a little bit longer, hoping that if he waited long enough, he’d see a response from Phil.

By the time Dan realized Phil likely wasn’t going to tweet back anytime soon, more time had past then Dan has anticipated, and he sighed as he realized he really needed to get going. Ducking into the shop, Dan dithered around looking for something suitable _enough_ for Isabella.

Just as he’d expected, the shop was running low on options. There were _no_ roses left — those must have all gone to the people who’d bothered to shop for flowers before five in the evening. Dan was shit out of luck on that, knowing they were what Isabella would be expecting. In lieu of anything nicer, Dan ended up buying carnations, which he _knew_ Isabella would hate, but again, Dan couldn’t bring himself to care. This whole thing would be over tomorrow morning, so did it _really_ matter what kind of flowers he showed up with tonight?

As Dan paid, he glanced at his watch, and realized he barely had ten minutes to walk the twenty minute trek to Isabella’s. He knew he could call an uber and be on time — maybe even early — but he felt like he needed to work off some of his restless energy.

So he walked.

Besides. The last thing he _really_ wanted was to get to Isabella’s any sooner than necessary.

In his defense, he did do his best to speed walk, and he did manage to knock on Isabella’s door a mere five minutes late. Anyone besides Isabella probably wouldn’t have cared about the five minutes — or at the very least, would be accustomed enough to Dan’s perpetual tardiness that they weren’t _offended_ when he was a few minutes late. But this wasn’t anyone else.

This was Isabella.

“You’re late,” Isabella snapped as she opened the door. “I told you to be here at 5:30 sharp.”

What a stellar start to the evening.

“Sorry, the uber was late,” Dan lied, and stepped around Isabella, who was still standing in the center of the doorway.

Without waiting for an invitation, Dan brushed past her, and went directly to the lounge. A vase, already filled with water, sat in the middle of the coffee table, clearly sitting out waiting for the flowers Isabella had expected him to bring. Dan unwrapped the flowers and dropped them carelessly into the vase. He didn’t bother arranging them to look nice — whatever he did wouldn’t be good enough, and Isabella would surely rearrange them anyway.

Dan was in the process of shrugging out of his coat and draping it over the armchair when he heard the _clack clack clack_ of Isabella’s shoes finally following him into the lounge. Dan prepared himself for her to kiss the back of his neck— or maybe even do something more erotic, as she tended to do sometimes — but it didn’t come. He twisted around to see that Isabella was frozen halfway across the room, eyes fixated on the vase.

“Carnations.” Her voice was dripping with distaste.

“It was all they had.” Dan defended weakly.

“What? You didn’t order flowers ahead of time?” Isabella snapped. “What did you do, pick them up on your way here?”

“Er, yes?” Dan admitted, ruffling his hair nervously.

Isabella sighed dramatically, mumbling something in Spanish underneath her breath. When she looked at Dan again, she spoke up. “You could have at least gotten red. It’s more sophisticated.”

“I liked the pink…” Dan mumbled. The pink flowers were softer, more delicate looking than the red ones, Dan thought. The red carnations had felt too aggressive, too impassioned, and he _definitely_ didn’t need Isabella thinking he was feeling passionate at a time like this.

“I see that. Is it your new favorite color now?” Isabella spat hatefully.

“What do you mean?” Dan ask, confused. They were just _flowers_.

“I saw those pictures you posted.”

Dan froze. Obviously Isabella had seen the pictures. He should have known she would. Not that it would have changed his actions, but he would have been better prepared for this conversation.

Isabella waved her phone at Dan, as if he was stupid and would otherwise have no idea what she was talking about. “The ones of you in the pink sweater. You never wear colors when I ask you to.” She sounded bitter.

When it came down to it, though, what the fuck did it matter if he ventured into the color part of the rainbow? Was that _really_ what she was mad about?

“It’s just a holiday sweater, Izzy,” Dan said, resigned. He didn’t understand _why_ she was angry about the sweater, and he didn’t particularly care to find out. Tonight was going to be hard enough to get through without having to suffer a fight, too.

“A _cute_ holiday sweater.” She sounded downright venomous.

The emphasis on _cute_ wasn’t lost on Dan.

“Louise got it for me—” he started, trying to derail the fight.

“And that _tarado_ —” Isabella continued, as if Dan hadn’t spoken at all, “—from the coffee place thinks you look _cute_ in it.” If Dan thought she sounded angry before, it was _nothing_ compared to how livid she was when she brought up Phil.

Dan could suffer through whatever accusations Isabella wanted to hurl at him, whatever insults she decided to jab him with. But hearing her talk about Phil like that…

Phil, the one who had only ever tried to bolster Dan’s spirits, who always seemed to be trying to make Dan laugh, who constantly gave Dan one hundred percent of his attention...

“He only said that after I specifically asked him if it looked terrible,” Dan protested, willing to fall on that knife for Phil.

“If you wanted an opinion on how it looked, you should have texted _me_ , your _girlfriend_. I’m a _model_. It’s literally my _job_ to know about fashion.” For one tiny second, Dan thought, _hoped_ ,that Isabella had gotten distracted from the topic of Phil.

But that would be asking for _far_ too much. Once Isabella sunk her claws into something, there were sure to be no survivors.

“Besides,” Isabella continued contemptuously, “he didn’t need to tell all of twitter that he thinks you look cute in that horrendous sweater.”

“I like the sweater!” Dan objected heatedly. Sure, when he’d opened the bag and seen pink, he had been wary, but as the day wore on, he had found himself growing rather fond of it.

“It’s hideous and cheap looking. Why are the hearts all blocky on it? Could they not afford to make it look nice?”

“It’s Moschino! It’s _supposed_ to be quote, unquote blocky. That’s the style.” Dan couldn’t be bothered to try to explain that the hearts were pixelated, that it was a _thing_ , and really, the fact that Louise had bought him this particular sweater was a sign of just how well she knew him. Unlike Isabella.

“I don’t understand why you like Moschino. It’s all so tacky. Besides, it looks like she got it from the women’s section.” Isabella sent Dan an appalled look as she moved to the full length mirror, leaning in close to check her face in the reflection.

“Does it matter if she did?” Dan challenged. “It’s just a fucking sweater. Colors aren’t gendered, and there’s no reason for sweaters to be either.”

“Danny, everyone knows that pink is a girly color. If you start running around in girls’ clothes, everyone’s going to realize that—” Isabella’s voice dropped down to a sneering whisper, and she looked back over his shoulder to send hima reproachful look, “ — you’re _gay_.”

Dan tugged at his hair, frustrated. He was probably wrecking the carefully arranged mop of curls and would regret it later when he inevitably had to take a picture, but at this moment in time, he didn’t give a shit.

They’d been _through_ this already. When Dan had initially come out to Isabella, she’d been flippant, almost disbelieving that being attracted to more than one gender was even possible. Dan had tried his best to be tolerant, to help her understand — after all, Dan had had to explain the concept of bisexuality to a lot of people over the years. Until Isabella, he’d actually been incredibly fortunate — everyone seemed to accept Dan with open arms once he _explained._ But _Isabella_ had wavered for _days_ between questioning if Dan was even capable of being attracted to her since he liked men, and invalidating his attraction to men because he was able to _get it up_ for her.

Overtime, Isabella _did_ accept that he liked boys too, but rather than strengthening their relationship like Dan had hoped it would, it had weakened it. Isabella grew insecure, and was constantly jealous of anyone — especially men — new in Dan’s life.

It was like she was afraid that Dan was going to run off to fuck a guy _just_ because they could offer him something that she couldn’t.

“Jesus fucking christ, not this again, Isabella. How many fucking times do I have to tell you that I’m _not gay_ , I’m bisexual.”

Dan had no idea why he was trying to educate her about the fucking label. He knew good and well that wasn’t the issue here. He just didn’t know how else to have this conversation without pissing her off even more.

“Does it matter? Either way, before you met me you were fucking some guy.” Dan knew Isabella hated that he’d dated guys in the past, but now she sounded absolutely disgusted, which was new. “You probably weren’t even the one doing the fucking, were you?”

Stunned, Dan could do nothing but stare at Isabella in surprise. Up until this moment, Dan had never realized just how _repulsed_ Isabella was by the fact that he’d slept with men.

How had they survived all this time if she was _nauseated_ at the idea of him getting fucked by — or fucking — a guy?

“What does _that_ have to do with anything?” Dan was livid, his voice raising until he was on the verge of shouting. He was unable to fully control his temper anymore. His hands were violently shaking, his vision practically blurring with rage. “Literally why do you give a _fuck_ about what happens when I sleep with guys?”

“ _Sleep_ with, or _slept_ with.” It didn’t come out as a question. It was a statement, a statement _dripping_ with poison. Isabella stalked over to him, looking poised to smack him if he responded incorrectly. The fact that she was accusing Dan of _cheating_ shouldn’t have come as a surprise, and yet it _did_. He’d thought she trusted him more than that, but clearly, the jealousy of Dan’s interest in men ran deep.

Dan held his hands up in surrender. “Slept. I said sleep in, like, a general sense. I didn’t mean that I’m sleeping with guys, like, actively.”

“You better fucking not be.” Isabella’s hand relaxed a bit, looking at least _somewhat_ appeased by the fact that regardless of whatever Dan had done in the past, he was denying doing it now. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with that _cabrón_ , so I wouldn’t be that surprised.”

Well, maybe she wasn’t so pacified after all.

“Stop calling him fucking names, Izzy.” Dan took a step back, physically unable to be so close to her right now. He felt sickened by her presence, by the hints of homophobia that were leaking into her accusations and insults. He took a steadying breath, trying to decide if that was a hill that he was ready to fight and die upon.

It wasn’t.

 _When_ he broke up with her, he didn’t want this to be the reason. He didn’t want her to walk away thinking that the only issue here was that he liked guys, too.

“How many times do I have to say that I’m only seeing you, that I’m not okay with cheating?”

Isabella took the bait, her attention successfully diverted from Phil. “You can’t blame me for needing reassurance when you’re getting so close to _putas_ on twitter.”

Isabella being distracted from Phil didn’t make Dan feel any better, though, not when she was accusing him of _cheating_ to avoid taking on any of her own blame.

He felt like he was on fire, his blood was boiling, and he was sure his face and chest were flushed red in fury.

“Oh, we’re back to _this_ fight, are we?” Dan waved his hands around wildly. Sure, this fight was better than the biphobic, homophobic, _whatever_ shit she’d been spouting earlier, but it was still something they’d already been through a dozen times. A fight that he _thought_ they had both agreed to _put the fuck behind them_. “Do I need to remind you of that picture you were tagged in just two weeks ago? Where you were hanging all over those guys?”

So maybe Dan wasn’t a saint. If Isabella was going to hurl nasty things at him, he was going to take a few shots back.

“I told you, I was just with them for publicity.” Isabella sounded exasperated, as if she thought she was standing on some moral high ground because the people _she_ had been caught flirting with were “professionals.”

“I don’t _care_ why you were with them. It still fucking hu-hurt to see you all over two fit models.” Dan’s voice cracked, and he forced himself to pause for a second, collecting himself. Maybe he wasn’t as over this particular wound as he’d thought he was. “You don’t get to police who I’m talking to on twitter when you talk non-stop to fit models and post risque photos with them on your instagram!”

“ _I_ post those pictures for the media, for my _fans_.” She was properly shouting now, pacing back and forth in front of Dan. She was walking with such heavy force that Dan felt like the clacking of her heels was reverberating off the walls. “ _You_ talk to Phil, post pictures with him, for what? As part of some sick game? Weird foreplay for whatever it is that you’re doing with him if it’s not sex?”

And here they were again.

If Dan wasn’t fucking _fuming_ , he would have cowered, would have stepped back, would have let her win. But he was positively _seething_ with anger and he _wasn’t_ about to back down.

“It’s not _anything_ , Isabella!” Dan knew that wasn’t quite true — things with Phil didn’t _feel_ platonic. But he would never _dream_ of actually doing anything that Isabella was implying, not while they were still together. “Fucking hell, we _both_ agreed to let this go, to be adults and accept that we _both_ fucked up.”

In the heat of the moment, Dan was so close to saying _fuck it_. To give up on waiting until tomorrow. To shout how fucking _over_ this relationship and the way she treated him he was.

He came really fucking close.

He didn’t shout this time. He made sure to keep his voice low, steady. He wanted Isabella to know he was fucking _serious_. “If you don’t trust me, what the _fuck_ are we doing here?”

Isabella stuttered to a halt, jerking around to face him. When she spoke, her voice dropped too, reducing from the shrill scream to her normal grating voice. “What do you mean, Danny?”

Dan took a steadying breath. He’d come this far, he might as well say something. Anything. He might as well try to articulate _some_ of his problems in this relationship — some of the problems that weren’t _Phil_ or the fact that his girlfriend was apparently _homophobic_.

“I mean, trust is the _most_ important part of a relationship. And these past few months, it’s been pretty fucking clear that you don’t trust me as far as you can throw me.”

“That’s not tr—” Isabella started, but Dan was on a roll. He wasn’t about to let her interrupt him now.

“And I’ve been dealing with that. I’ve been trying to show you I’m trustworthy, I’m always reassuring you that I’m not sleeping with anyone else. Male or female! But that’s not good enough for you, is it? And what am I getting out of this?”

“You’re —” Isabella tried to interject again, but Dan steamrolled over her.

“I’m getting a shitty relationship where I _thought_ my girlfriend loved me, but as it turns out, she’s more interested in my career and money than she is me!”

“That’s _not true_!” Isabella screamed at the top of her lungs. A look of panic was etched across her face.

This time, Dan was taken aback. His rhythm broke some, but he continued. “Tell me how it is, then, Izzy. Because that’s a hell of a lot of what it looks like from over here.”

Dan expected Isabella to fight back. To make up excuses. He expected her to kick and scream and lash out. Not to freeze up, go quiet, crumple shamefully to the couch. The reaction left Dan a little stunned, confused. He didn’t know what to do with _that_.

“I’m sorry, Danny.” Isabella looked up at him with big doe eyes, her voice far too sweet to be genuine. She reached up and brushed a nonexistent tear from her cheek. “I said horrible things. Of course I trust you. Of course I love you for so much more than just your money and your fame.”

Dan stared down at her, reeling from the whiplash of Isabella’s sudden mood swing. “Do you? Do you really?” he demanded, because he knew Isabella, and by this point, he knew this relationship. He was damn sure that she was lying through her teeth.

Dan wasn’t sure which he was questioning her about: trust or love.

“Of course, _querido_.”

It didn't matter. He didn’t believe her about either one.

But now that the heat of the moment had passed, Dan knew that this wasn’t the time. It was Valentine’s Day, and he’d done his own fair share of fucking up in this relationship lately. It wasn’t fair for him to use her behavior, her accusations, her insults as an excuse for breaking up with her today.

It could wait until tomorrow.

“Let’s just have a drink and move on with the night, okay?” Dan said, sighing, drained from the fight.

“I’d love that.” Isabella said, her voice dripping with fake sincerity as she pulled her face into something resembling a smile, an expression that looked so utterly wrong in light of everything. The happiness didn’t reach her eyes, which still held hints of anger that she was forcing down.

“I got you a present, Danny.” Her voice was sweet, too sweet.

It seemed that as soon as she’d realized that Dan was willing to just _carry on_ with the night, to drop the fight entirely, Isabella was keen to be as agreeable as possible, coming across as blatantly insincere, far too saccharine to be genuine. Dan didn’t trust the shift, he didn’t trust Isabella to stay calm.

Isabella reached forward, picking up a small gift bag from the side table that Dan noticed for the first time. “Here you go, querido. I saw this and thought of you.”

Dan cautiously took the present from Isabella’s hands, not sure how to react to a present so soon after such an intense fight.

Isabella was watching him with the same forced smile plastered on her face. Dan offered her a tight grin in return, before looking down at the present, carefully untying the ribbon holding the bag’s handles together. With a sense of dread, Dan pulled the tissue paper out piece by piece until the only thing left in the bag was a small jewelry box.

Apparently, Dan’s dread was justified. Very rarely did cheap, meaningless gifts come in small boxes.

Dan delicately took the box out of the bag, staring at it for a moment without opening it.

“Well go on,” Isabella said cheerfully. Too cheerfully. “Look at what’s inside.”

Dan drew in a deep breath, summoning the courage to open the box. He cracked the box open and saw… cufflinks?

Why the hell would Isabella get him _cufflinks_? He wore suits so fucking rarely — really only for major press events and when Isabella insisted on going to fancy places.

“Look at them, look at them!” Isabella encouraged, clapping her hands together annoyingly.

Trying to mask his surprise at the gift, Dan picked up one of the cufflinks and inspected it more closely. Not that he really _needed_ to get closer to see what they looked like — they were fucking massive. They were round, nearly three centimeters across, and the shiniest damn gold he’d seen in his whole life.

Gold. He never wore gold. The hoop earring he liked to wear (when he wasn’t around Isabella, or was willing to tolerate her rude comments about it) was silver. So was his watch, all of his belts, and the small necklace he wore sometimes. He literally didn’t own any gold.

Well, he did now.

“Did you see the inscription?”

Dan hadn’t. He’d been too _fucking_ blinded by the brightness of them that he hadn’t looked any closer. Dan turned the cufflink he was holding so he could see the top. _DWH._

DWH? Dan tilted his head, trying to figure it out.

“DWH?” Dan asked, hoping his confusion wasn’t too obvious.

“Daniel William Howell! Every man needs a pair of monogrammed cufflinks.”

Dan was speechless. He couldn’t do anything other than blink repeatedly at her. William? Where the fuck did she get William? How the fuck did she not know his middle name after almost a year of dating him? When the entire _internet_ seemed to know it?

Was it worth telling her that she was wrong?

No.

It wasn’t.

It wasn’t like it would make a difference in anything, not at this point.

“Well, put them on! You can wear them tonight,” Isabella urged when Dan only seemed to continue staring at them.

Jesus, nearly the dead _last_ thing Dan wanted to do was wear these obnoxious — and _wrong_ — cufflinks out in public. But the only thing he wanted to do less than that was start fighting with Isabella again, so he carefully took out the plain silver studs he was currently wearing, and slipped them into his breast pocket.

Isabella took the gold cufflinks from his grasp, pulling Dan’s arms towards her. “Let me do that for you, babe,” she murmured, looking up at Dan with what was probably supposed to be an alluring look.

Her fingers were steady and gentle as she delicately threaded the cufflinks through the holes and screwed on the ball fasteners. Dan watched her work in silence, not sure what else to say. When she was done, she gave each of his hands a quick squeeze, lightly kissing his fingertips.

Dan had to fight to hold back a shudder. At this point, he just wanted to get the evening over with so that when he woke up tomorrow, he could get this entire relationship over and done with.

“Thank you.” He smiled tightly, trying to look as grateful as possible. Dan stood up, walking to the chair where he had dropped his coat earlier, and fished out Isabella’s present. “I got you something as well.”

Dan handed Isabella the box, and watched as her face fell. After Adaline’s birthday dinner, Dan knew Isabella was hoping for, maybe even expecting, a square box. A square box with a very important piece of jewelry in it. Instead, she’d gotten a very long, obviously necklace shaped one.

She didn’t say anything though. Instead, Isabella took the box from his hands, and flashed him a close-lipped smile.

Dan watched as she opened it, her movements slow and careful.The moment it was open, Isabella stared blankly at the tacky piece of jewelry, clearly schooling her expression.

She must _really_ be trying to get back on Dan’s good side because she was doing a _much_ better job of keeping her face neutral than Dan probably had.

After a beat of silence, Isabella looked up. “Thank you. It’s so… _unique_.” Her voice was dripping with false appreciation, but Dan could practically _hear_ the disgust in her tone.

 _That’s one word for it_ , Dan thought.

Fucking _hideous_ was another.

Unlike Isabella, Dan wasn’t about to suggest that she wear the gift to dinner. Frankly, he didn’t particularly want to be seen with it. There was no way he’d get through this night without posting a picture of them on his instagram, and he _certainly_ didn’t want the whole world to speculate that he’d bought her such an atrocious necklace. Not that they’d be wrong. But still.

“I’m going to put this in my room, so it’s safe,” Isabella said. “I’d hate for anything to… _hurt_ it out here.”

Dan bite back a scoff. _Safe. Sure._ He probably didn’t manage to hide his eyeroll, but it was fine. Her back was already to him, and she was _clack clack clacking_ out of the room.

As much as Dan used to _love_ seeing Isabella in heels, loved the way they made her legs and her arse look, Dan would not miss the sound of her stilettos on the hardwood floor. She _never_ took them off unless it was after sex or before she got dressed for the day. At some point in their relationship, the noise had grown jarring, and Dan started associating it with needy whines and a harsh words.

Glancing at his (silver) watch, Dan saw that they still had over half an hour before they needed to leave. He couldn’t remember _where_ they were going, but he did remember Isabella insisting they meet at her flat because it was only a five minute drive from hers.

Not knowing what else to do with their time, Dan went to the kitchen to pour them each a drink. In typical Isabella fashion, she only had vodka, _diet_ tonic, and white wine. Dan basically hated all three of those things, but decided that a vodka diet tonic was probably the lesser of the two evils. Or rather, maybe it had a high enough alcohol content to make up for the bland taste.

Dan had just finished pouring the drinks when he heard Isabella’s heels coming back from her room. He met her in the hallway, handing her one of the drinks.

“Gracias, querido.” Isabella pressed a chaste kiss to Dan’s lips — a kiss that he didn’t return. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she pulled him by his hand back into the lounge, pushing him lightly onto the sofa.

For a moment, Dan worried that Isabella was going to set her drink down on the table, that she was going to try and straddle his wait, kiss him properly, do _anything_ to distract Dan from their earlier fight. Isabella was prone to using her body to get what she wanted from Dan. But she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. Dan should have known better. Isabella would never do anything that would risk crumpling her dress or smudging her makeup before they went out, especially not if they were going somewhere where she’d definitely want to post a picture from.

Instead, Isabella sat down on the sofa next to Dan, refusing to touch him. There was at least an inch of space between them, and it didn’t escape Dan’s notice that this was something Isabella did when she wanted to be passive aggressive but perfectly able to deny that she was mad.

The half hour before they called their uber was awkward. Dan had no idea what to say. What was there to talk about when he knew he was about to dump Isabella in less than twenty-four hours?

Luckily, Isabella had no problem carrying the weight of the conversation, even despite her obvious annoyance. While Dan sipped his drink and tried his best to focus on just _getting through_ the night, Isabella chattered on about the shoot she’d just finished in Turks and Caicos, and the job she was leaving for tomorrow. Apparently, she was a lot less excited for her next trip because it was in northern Canada, where _it’s positively freezing, Danny_. Dan tried to force himself to pay attention as she grumbled about how she shouldn’t even be doing winter shoots anymore, that everyone else had moved on to preparing the ad campaigns for their spring and summer lines.

There was no way he could make himself _care_ , but he tried his best to make himself _listen_.

When it finally came time to call the uber, Dan had never been so happy to be leaving the house in his entire life. All he could hope for was that the structure of dinner would give them something to focus on, something other than the uncomfortable aftermath of their fight. At least at dinner they could talk about the food and the restaurant and whatever happened to be in front of them.

Still unable to remember where Isabella had told him they were going, Dan offered Isabella his phone to call the uber, and headed off to the loo in an attempt to avoid admitting he’d forgotten their destination. Dan made sure to sign out of twitter before he handed Isabella his phone, not wanting her to read his DM’s with Phil or otherwise interact with his audience, and took his time “going to the restroom.”

By the time he got back, Isabella had, rather unfortunately, tucked Dan’s phone into her purse, making it impossible for Dan to check where they were going. Plus, now he was phoneless.

Great.

Once the uber arrived, Isabella led them both down to the lobby, waiting for Dan to open the door and help her into the car. The car pulled away, driving off to some unknown destination. The two spent the next five minutes in complete, awkward silence; even the uber driver seemed unwilling to speak. Dan wished he had his phone to fiddle with, at least for _something_ to do with his hands.

When they finally pulled up to their destination, the driver pulled directly in between two restaurants. Dan felt his stomach drop in dread. He hated to admit to Isabella when he forgot something she’d told him, because she always ended up making Dan feel like absolute shit for it, and usually insisted on Dan spending even _more_ money on her to make up for it. Sighing, Dan got out of the car first, and held the door open for Isabella. As he shut it for her, he turned with the desperate hope that Isabella had left him behind, and headed towards the correct restaurant — lord knows she’d done it before.

It seemed she really was out to make a better impression tonight, though, because she was hovering just a few steps away from Dan when he turned away from the uber. She looped her hand through Dan’sarm and vaguely gestured ahead. “After you, babe.”

 _Fuck_.

She wanted _him_ to lead? He didn’t know where he was leading them to!

Dan stared at the two restaurants, wracking his brains to see if he recognized either of the names.

He didn’t.

Well, fifty-fifty shot, he supposed.

Blindly, he started walking towards one of the restaurants, the one called _The Wing Head_ , in the hopes that _somehow_ it was the right one. He didn’t get very far before he felt a tugging on his elbow, pulling him back in the opposite direction. “Babe, where are you going?” Isabella asked.

Of _fucking_ course he’d picked the wrong restaurant. That was just really fitting for the evening.

“Sorry, got turned around,” Dan lied. It wasn’t a particularly believable lie, seeing as they’d been standing in the middle of the two restaurants, but it was leagues better than dealing with Isabella telling him off tonight. Again.

The _correct_ restaurant was some sort of Asian-fusion place, which, really, given the fact that Isabella was constantly switching between diets, was much better than anything Dan had hoped for.

The waitstaff was overly gracious and far too welcoming. Isabella must have impressed upon them that they were _famous_ and _important_ when she’d made the reservation. They sat Dan and Isabella at an intimate table in a corner of the restaurant. By no means were they _secluded_ , but it was one of the more private tables in the restaurant, and clearly reserved for the _more important_ guests.

Isabella pulled Dan down into the chair next to her, rather than allowing him to sit across from her. Dan wished she’d let him sit on the other side of the booth — or even on the inside. Currently, she was on his left, meaning he would have to spend his whole evening trying not to bump her plate, her drink, _her_ with his arm while he ate.

They barely had time to settle in before their waitress brought them a bottle of white wine without prompting — Dan wasn’t sure if that was a gift from the restaurant, or if Isabella had arranged for it when she’d called ahead. Knowing her, neither one would be very surprising.

Thankfully, Dan ended up being right about one thing: being at the restaurant was better than sitting in Isabella’s lounge. Here, they were very much in public, and the nearest couple was well within earshot (certainly something Isabella would have complained about if there were _any_ other available tables). Dan was much less afraid that Isabella was going to say something horrible; surely she wouldn’t start a fight where other people could overhear. She cared far too much about her public image to risk the media catching wind that she and Dan were fighting in public, and on Valentine’s Day no less.

In addition to the public setting, there was finally something completely neutral they could both talk about. Isabella opened a menu, pulling Dan in closer than necessary so that they could _look at it together._ She was minimally picky tonight, and proposed that they order both appetizers when they couldn’t decide between two options. Dan sighed, but agreed. He didn’t particularly _want_ two appetizers — not in his churning stomach _or_ on his credit card — but it was easier to agree than it was to push picking only one.

“Izzy?” Dan proded when they’d made their decision.

Isabella looked at him with fluttering eyes. “Yes, Danny?”

“Can I have my phone back?”

“Why?” Isabella demanded, her voice sharp.

Dan was prepared for that. He’d thought up an excuse while they were being seated. “I just remembered that I need to text my mum Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Now? That can wait until we get back.”

Dan was prepared for that, too. “No, she normally goes to bed really early and I don’t want to miss her.” Isabella didn’t have to know that Dan got his night owl tendencies from his mum. She also didn’t have to know that Dan was really just asking for his phone back now so that he didn’t leave her alone with it when he inevitably went to the loo. He knew he had to ask far enough ahead of time that it wouldn’t be too obvious he was trying to keep his phone away from her.

If he asked too obviously, and Isabella would fly into a paranoid tirade, asking Dan just _what_ he wanted to keep secret from her.

Dan’s excuse ended up working, _thank god_. Reluctantly, Isabella handed him his phone. In an attempt to keep up appearances, Dan unlocked it and opened his messages to his mum. He’d already messaged her that morning, but he typed out a quick _hope dinner with dad is going well!_ for the sake of sending something. Then, Dan deliberately slipped his phone into his pocket, rather than Isabella’s outstretched hand. He could see Isabella opening her mouth to argue, probably prepared to insist that they leave both of their phones put away in her purse for the rest of the night, but at that moment, the waitress appeared at their table.

Dan looked up at her with a grateful smile.

“Have you decided on an appetizer for the night?”

“Yes, we’ll have the chinese egg tarts and the vegan samosa potato cakes,” Dan said, knowing that Isabella expected him to do all of the ordering for both of them, the way she felt a man _should_. “I think we’re also ready with our entree orders as well, too. Right, Izzy?”

Isabella looked red in the cheeks at the question, a combination of flustered and annoyed that Dan had turned the waitress’ attention onto _her_ , but didn’t complain. She nodded with a tight smile, and ordered her own entree (cucumber salad), while Dan scoured the menu quickly and picked the first thing he saw as well (spicy tofu ramen).

Pleased when the waitress left with their orders, Dan tried to hide his relieved sigh. He’d do anything to hurry this night along.

“So,” Isabella said. “How is work going? Are you close to releasing a new song yet?”

“The song that I was working on in the studio when you left is almost done, but we agreed that it’s not going to be released until the album.”

“Why not?” Isabella sounded more annoyed than curious.

“The more I write and work through things… _creatively_ , the more I feel like this album is taking shape. And when I decide to release a single off of it before the album comes out, it’s important to me to pick one that I feel represents the album, that really captures the overall theme, and will give people a sense of what it’s going to be.”

As Dan talked, he worried that he was digging himself into a hole that he wouldn’t be able to get out of. Since his skype call with Phil, and his discussion with Louise the morning, he _was_ certain that this album was centering on a theme. It wasn’t his original intention to make a concept album, but so far, all of the songs he’d written — or started — were about the same ideas, the same feelings.

It was a concept that he definitely couldn’t explain to Isabella. Not without breaking up with her on the spot.

Isabella didn’t care though. She never cared about the _content_ of his music. She only ever seemed to be interested in the parts of his career that she could benefit from. Media things. Concerts. Sponsorships. Travelling. _Releasing singles_.

“You should release something soon, otherwise you’ll frustrate all of your fans,” Isabella said condescendingly.

“Unlikely. They’ve always been supportive and willing to wait longer for better music.”

Isabella gave him a look that implied she didn’t believe him, but didn’t challenge him any further. In fact, she seemed to give up talking about Dan’s life entirely, and turned the conversation back to herself. She spent the entire twenty minutes they waited for their appetizers talking about some shopping trip she had taken with her friend, describing in detail the new handbag she had bought. Why on earth did she think Dan cared about a fucking _purse_?

Therefore, Dan was thrilled when their food came. Their waitress apologized profusely — she’d forgotten to bring their appetizers out before their food, and brought both courses at the same time. Personally, Dan couldn’t have been happier. Having all the food at once would help fast-track dinner even more.

Isabella, however, was decidedly _un_ happy. She loved long, languid meals — which Dan did too, under more normal circumstances — and hated feeling like restaurants were rushing her. Honestly, Dan truly expected her to make a scene, to tell the waitress off for not doing her job right, to demand that the chef re-cook their meals when they were done eating their appetizers.

The waitress got away relatively unscathed though. Isabella only made one snide comment about how _everyone has their own talents, maybe yours just isn’t customer service._ Dan had tried to apologize with his eyes, and rushed to say that it wasn’t an inconvenience. He hoped the waitress realized that Isabella was _not_ speaking for Dan as well. He vowed to tip even more generously than usual to make up for Isabella’s behavior.

While they ate, neither Dan nor Isabella talked much. Dan knew that there was no way Isabella had exhausted the list of topics about herself that she could bore Dan with, so she must have been focused on eating. The silence should have been unbearable — and actually, it was objectively awkward as all hell — but Dan was so relieved to not have to talk, to not have to listen to Isabella’s inane chatter, to not have to be on edge that Isabella was going to say something awful, that he relished the uncomfortable silence. They talked so little while they ate that that they finished their meal in a record low of twenty minutes.

In typical Isabella fashion, Isabella timed going to the bathroom so that she was conveniently not present when the bill came. Why she still bothered to do that, after dating for _so_ long, was beyond Dan. But he _gladly_ paid the bill, knowing that this was the last dinner he was ever going to have to buy her. That felt _incredible_.

When the waitress came back with his card, and Isabella finally came back from the loo, Dan ushered them out as quickly as he could. He was ready to be done with tonight. Thank god the wait for an uber was only two minutes. It meant paying the upcharge for the _select_ service (which Isabella always preferred anyway), but it was well worth the extra money.

As they stood on the pavement, waiting for their car to arrive, Isabella turned towards Dan.

“Danny,” Isabella cooed softly into his ear, tugging on the lapel of his coat, “why don’t you come back to my place for a _nightcap_?”

Dan wasn’t sure if it was out of habit or politeness, but he met Isabella’s eyes and murmured, “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNN
> 
> i look forward to hearing your thoughts <3
> 
> [ like and reblog here! ](http://imnotinclinedtomaturity.tumblr.com/post/174264942960/love-yourself-chapter-12)


	13. 13 (7346 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was GOING to wait until monday to post this... and well, it's after midnight, so it's technically monday.
> 
> i linked a few not particularly nsfw stuff again, by no means do you have to click on them 
> 
> a big thanks to [ auroraphilealis ](http://www.auroraphilealis.tumblr.com) for always making me better and honestly telling me when something doesn't land so i can fix it

Dan sat ramrod straight in the uber, completely uncomfortable with Isabella’s hand on his thigh. Well, it had started on his knee and in the two minutes they’d been in the car it had slowly started drifting up his leg. A month ago, Dan would have found the tease of her hand hot, would have encouraged her hand to go higher, would have let his own hands slip up her dress. He would have been unbelievably turned on by fooling around a bit in the back of an uber, it had always been one of his guilty pleasures.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, Dan had his hands folded rigidly in his lap, conveniently placed directly over his cock, a solid roadblock in the path of Isabella’s wandering hands. If Isabella wanted to touch him, she’d have to knock his hands out of the way. Even she wasn’t bold enough to do that.

The whole ride, Dan stubbornly stared out the window, refusing to so much as look at Isabella. He knew any amount of eye contact would surely only encourage her, and that was the last goddamn thing he wanted to do. A million thoughts were rushing around his head as he watched the city speed by them, the pavement filled with happy couples holding hands.

Sometime during the last year, he’d forgotten what it felt like to be one of those happy couples. He wanted to remember. He wanted the chance to be one of those couples again.

After they’d fought, Isabella had _tried_ to be sweet, to make up for her behavior, which Dan suspected had much more to do with her trying to make him forgive and forget issues that even _she_ was smart enough to realize could make him leave her. As a result, the entire thing felt like a farce — both of them knew that something was _wrong_ , but, for completely different reasons, both were determined to ignore it.

So why had he agreed to go back to Isabella’s flat with her? The entire night, all Dan had been able to think about was how desperately he wanted out of the date, out of their relationship. And then she’d asked him to come back and he’d just… said yes?

Dan _knew_ that Isabella wasn’t offering him just a drink when she invited him over for a nightcap. Throughout their relationship, both of them had relied on sex to wash away their fights, never actually _talking about_ or _dealing with_ their issues. Dan _knew_ that was why Isabella had invited him over tonight. He knew her intention was to lure him into bed, probably with the intention of being selfless enough that Dan would let the fight go without her having to actually apologize. Like always.

Dan _knew_. He _knew_ all of this.

And yet he’d said yes.

Dan let his forehead fall against the window with a _thunk_. The glass was ice cold against his forehead and he was vaguely aware of the fact that the _thunk_ meant that his head should probably be hurting, but he was too numb to feel anything right now.

The car stopped at a light and the urge to open the door, to duck out, to _run_ was nearly irresistible. Dan wound his hands together more tightly, squeezing his fingers so firmly that his knuckles cracked. Isabella _hated_ it when he cracked his bones — the fact that she wasn’t _saying_ anything about it, though, spoke just as much to her desire to wash away their fight as her hand on his thigh did.

Instead, her hand dipped down, sliding to the inside of his leg. _Fuck_ , Dan regretted sitting with his legs spread far enough apart to allow her to trail her fingers along his inseam, to allow her to caress the inside of his thigh.

Dan had no idea how he was going to derail her advances, or how he was going to get out of this mess. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get her to agree to breakfast tomorrow, especially since he was essentially running away tonight.

But if Dan was sure of one thing, it was that he knew that there was no way in _hell_ he was going to sleep with her tonight.

The car ride felt both forever long, and too short. When the uber stopped outside of Isabella’s building, Dan had to muster up the will to get out of the car, walk the seven steps to the front door, and follow Isabella into her flat.

Inside the building, Dan trudged behind Isabella as she led him to her flat, each stair feeling like a march to his death. If there had been any doubt in Dan’s mind that Isabella had asked him over so they could fuck, it would have been washed away when he glanced up and saw the deliberate swing of Isabella’s hip as she climbed the stairs, when he saw that she was making an effort to stay just far ahead of him enough that her arse was at eye-level.

At a different point in Dan’s life, that would have worked. It _had_ worked. But it wasn’t going to work tonight. He needed a way to get out of this without drawing too much attention to the fact that he was refusing to sleep with her for the millionth time in a month.

Isabella worked her key into the lock of her door, bending over much more than necessary, and pulled it open. Dan took a deep breath, summoning his courage to cross the threshold, and followed Isabella in. Just as he’d expected, soft, pink, glossy lips were on his the moment he stepped inside.

He fucking hated that sticky lipgloss.

Dan’s face scrunched up, and his hands flew to her hips — but not in order to pull her closer. No, he wanted Isabella the _fuck away_ from him.

“Hang on,” Dan said, prying Isabella off of him with what he hoped was a gente push. Even as he held her at arm’s length, Isabella was leaning back in, chasing his lips with her own. Dan tipped his head back slightly, tilting so that his lips were out of Isabella’s reach. “Why don’t we—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, though, because Isabella interrupted him with another kiss. His lips were too high, though, so her mouth landed on Dan’s adam’s apple, kissing her way up his throat. Dan let out a strangled groan — she was _perfectly_ aware of how sensitive his neck was. He _hated_ when she paid attention to his throat, it always felt too intimate, too intense, and right now, it felt overwhelming.

Overwhelmingly bad.

Dan pulled back again, this taking a small step away. “Let’s not rush things,” he suggested.

It wasn’t a _no,_ but Dan hoped it would stall things long enough that he’d have time to come up with a proper excuse to leave.

Isabella’s eyes narrowed slightly, confusion muddling the lust-blown look she was trying to cultivate, but she maintained her composure. “You’re right,” she murmured in her most sultry voice. “It’s been awhile, let’s make it count.”

Stepping out of Dan’s grasp, Isabella grabbed his hand in hers, her fingers delicately brushing the sensitive inside of his wrist intentionally. She walked backwards towards the lounge, her eyes roaming up and down Dan’s body. Reluctantly, Dan let himself be tugged along. A few weeks ago, he would have fucked her with his eyes, maybe even pushed her along a little faster, running his hands along her sides.

Today, he was fighting the urge to rip his hand from hers. Today, he had to force himself to look in her general direction.

Isabella dragged Dan over to the sofa, and pushed him down with more force than was strictly necessary. Dan wasn’t sure if it was Isabella’s anger slipping through, or if this was the kind of sex she wanted to have tonight — either way, the sudden shove knocked the wind out of him for a moment, leaving him breathless as she stepped between his legs and towered over him.

“Stay here for a second, babe,” Isabella whispered, leaning in close to speak the words into his ear, grazing the lobe with her teeth. It was a move that always sent shivers down Dan’s spine, and tonight was no exception. But tonight, it wasn’t waves of pleasure — it was a rush of _repulsion_.

Isabella drew back, batting her eyes at him, looking victorious. She was so wrapped up in herself, so unaware of Dan’s true wants and needs, that she’d taken his silent shudder as a sign of arousal. Slowly, Isabella turned, and sauntered away, swinging her hips far more than necessary. The sway of her graceful hips, her slender waist, her confident steps… it all reminded Dan of why he once liked her.

But as Isabella walked away from him, Dan’s imagination wandered. Images of broad shoulders, clumsy steps, and big, sure hands flooded Dan’s mind.

Fiddling with the buttons of his coat, Dan debated on whether or not he should take it off. He didn’t want to stay any longer than necessary, but it was hotter than hell in Isabella’s flat.

Or maybe that was just Dan’s residual anger burning in his stomach.

Dan settled for a compromise, unbuttoning his coat to cool off a bit, but leaving it on so that he could make a quick escape if need be. Dan’s eyes scanned the room, hoping for inspiration to strike. Everything in Isabella’s apartment was rose gold and white, everything arranged perfectly, not a speck of clutter in sight. It felt stiff, cold, inhospitable.

Dan closed his eyes for a moment, remembering a place where everything was louder, more vibrant. A place that was full of clutter and personal trinkets. A welcoming, intimate place. A place that wasn’t here.

He forced his eyes open. Now wasn’t the moment to dwell on that.

Now was the moment to find an excuse to leave.

Much to his dismay, Dan heard the signature _clack clack clack_ of Isabella’s heels coming down the hallway before he’d had the chance to come up with an excuse. God, if he _never_ heard that sound again, it would be too soon.

“This is for you, Danny.” Isabella handed him a flute of white wine with a seductive smile.

Grimacing in a way Dan hoped could pass as a smile, Dan curtly nodded his head in thanks and took a sip, just for the sake of being polite. The moment the liquid touched his tongue, Dan had to resist the urge to immediately spit it back into the glass. It was _horridly_ sweet — not that he liked white wine much in the first place, but this was positively _undrinkable_. He made himself swallow it, though, trying not to flinch.

Isabella seemed to take his audible gulp as a sign of lust, and smiled coyly. “Patience, sexy,” she purred, leaning back over Dan again and trailing her fingers down his face, brushing his lips with her nails. “I’m going to go slip into something more comfortable. I’ll come get you in a few minutes,” she added with a flirtatious wink.

With that damning promise, Isabella left him alone.

More comfortable _my ass,_ Dan thought. There had been a time when he _lived_ for hearing those words come out of Isabella’s mouth. Without fail, they were always followed by something that looking incredibly _un_ comfortable — he never felt too bad, though. It wasn’t like any of the lingerie ever stayed on long enough for it to matter.

But tonight… tonight, Dan wanted nothing less than for Isabella to come out of her room wearing something strappy or lacey or frilly. He always had a bit of a thing for dress up in the bedroom, but he was so fucking _over_ sleeping with Isabella, so fucking _done_ with their relationship, that there wasn’t a sexy enough outfit in the _world_ to entice him into fucking her.

He desperately wanted her to come out in massive sweatpants and a tshirt instead, suggesting they watch a movie and curl up on the sofa together. That was probably the only way Dan could handle staying at her flat for any length of time tonight.

There was absolutely no chance of that happening, though.

Dan knew Isabella was determined to brush over their fight with a blowjob and sex. Not to mention, Dan was fairly certain that Isabella didn’t own anything as _unflattering_ or casual as sweatpants or a baggy tshirt.

Deciding to get more comfortable — actually comfortable, not Isabella’s version of it — Dan put down his glass of wine and shrugged out of his coat, tossing it onto the sofa next to him. The sweltering heat of the apartment was getting to him — he was uncomfortable enough as it was, he didn’t need to add to it.

As Dan desperately tried to brainstorm an escape plan, he picked his glass back up and took a sip of the wine, forgetting how bad it tasted. _Blergh_. He recoiled at the taste, and this time he actually did open his mouth on instinct and let the wine dump back into the cup.

He set the glass on the far side table so that he wouldn’t accidently drink out of it in habit again.

Dan needed _out_. He needed away from this shitty wine, this shitty night, this shitty relationship. But how the _fuck_ was he going to get out of tonight without hurting Isabella’s feelings or causing yet _another_ fight he couldn’t be bothered with — or worse, making her realize _why_ he was refusing to sleep with her?

 _A fake emergency_.

Yes, Dan could do that. It was the oldest trick in the book, and it might be a little too transparent, but whatever. At this point, Dan didn’t care.

Dan mentally ran through a list of people he could text to call him. Louise was probably busy with her boyfriend, meaning there was too high of a chance that she wouldn’t see the message right away and Dan would be stuck here. He could text his mum — she was always made sure to look at his texts immediately, _just in case_ , but she’d ask a million questions later and he _really_ didn’t want to explain to his mother what was going on. He could DM Phil. Surely he’d still be awake, and Dan knew he wasn’t doing anything tonight. But Dan was pretty sure he wouldn’t get out of here without another fight if _Phil_ was the one who called him.

Who the fuck could he text?

 _Adaline_.

Dan glanced at his watch — it was just after her nine o’clock weekday curfew, meaning she’d most likely be home _and_ awake. Plus, Adaline was just as addicted to her phone as Dan, meaning there was almost no chance that she would miss his text. Perfect.

Quickly glancing up to make sure Isabella wasn’t on her way back already, Dan unlocked his phone and opened a message to his sister. Without thinking too much about it, Dan typed out a quick text.

 _Dan_ : SOS i need you call me in like 15 and fake an emergency

Much to his relief, Addie responded with a thumbs up emoji almost instantly. Just as he’d suspected, she must have had her phone in her hands.

Dan had never been so glad that his parents strictly enforced curfews.

It dawned on Dan that he had no idea how long Isabella was actually going to take to change and that fifteen minutes might not be enough. Sometimes Isabella was gone for five minutes, and sometimes she made him wait nearly half an hour. Maybe he should have Adaline wait a little longer to call.

 _Dan:_ actually make it 20 and if i don’t answer call again in five minutes

 _Adaline:_ wtf did you get yourself into

 _Dan:_ a trainwreck of a relationship

 _Adaline:_ well you’re not wrong there.

Hopefully, twenty minutes wouldn’t be _too_ long, but he’d rather to have to stall for a few minutes than have Adaline call too soon.

Thankful to have an escape plan in place, Dan leaned back into the sofa and tabbed over to twitter, killing time until he got to leave. Most of his mentions were currently in response to the picture Isabella had posted of them at the restaurant, and while Dan didn’t really care about what anyone had to say about his relationship with Isabella, he scrolled through the tweets anyway.

 _@DanIsIsbellasMan_ : @IsabellaDeLaRenta and @danielhowell are my otp #danella

 _@DanAndIzzyForever:_ @IsabellaDeLaRenta and @danielhowell might be the prettiest couple to ever exist #danella

 _@ishipdanella:_ #danella is couple goals @IsabellaDeLaRenta @danielhowell

With each new reply, Dan felt more and more sick to his stomach. Not one of these people seemed to know what Isabella — or their relationship — was really like, or what couple goals should _actually_ be. Regardless of his disgust, Dan kept scrolling, reading message after message screaming about how perfect him and Isabella were.

God, their breakup might not go over well.

Not that Dan cared, really. He hadn’t chased music as a career for the fame or the fans. He had chased it so that he would have the freedom and the resources to make the music _he_ wanted, the music that made _him_ feel passionate, and to share it with the people who would appreciate it.

All of the danella shippers would just have to get over it when the news of their breakup spread.

A few tweets interspersed in between all of the #danella replies managed to lift Dan’s spirits a little.

 _@AmazingPhilippa:_ @IsabellaDeLaRenta that picture is crashing my ship @AmazingPhil @danielhowell #phan

 _@DanielsHighNotes:_ @danielhowell this might be controversial but if you want a partner prettier than an actual model, consider @AmazingPhil #phan

However, while the tweets made Dan smile, he was surprised by them — he’d never publicly done anything to imply that he was bisexual, nor that he and Phil was in a relationship, though some of his tweets and pictures _had_ been a bit flirty. Still, he hadn’t realized that there was an actual community of his and Phil’s fan’s out there that were shipping them.

Their chemistry must be more obvious than Dan had thought. Or maybe they were just that flagrant with their flirting. Maybe Isabella wasn’t being entirely irrational when she’d said that Dan’s tweets with Phil were crossing a line.

Oops.

Dan wondered what Phil thought of the shipping, how he felt about the influx of mentions about a post he wasn’t even tagged in.

Dan hoped he didn’t mind too much. He couldn’t help feeling a little guilty that Phil’s feed was now wrecked by tweets about Dan’s date, especially since Dan had made an active effort to avoid the topic of Isabella with him as much as possible.

And Isabella — Dan couldn’t help but snicker when he thought of her reaction to #phan. He had no doubts that she would see. She was _obsessed_ with twitter, and monitored replies to all of her tweets religiously. When she found the camp of #phan shippers, she’d probably have a heart attack. Thank fuck Dan was breaking up with her tomorrow, because he had no clue how he’d deal that fight.

There was one tweet, however, which only tagged Dan. Dan’s brow furrowed. That was weird. Everything else seemed to either be tagging him alongside of either Isabella, or Phil.

Dan paused, reading over the message. It was from _Tatler_ , one of the most annoying gossip websites on the web.

 _@tatler:_ @danielhowell Looks like someone hasn’t heard about our big post for tomorrow. [picture]

Rolling his eyes, Dan clicked on the picture, knowing that it was probably just some clickbait from the trashy site designed to spread some bullshit made-up rumor, but he was unable to curb his curiosity.

The picture loaded on Dan’s screen, and his heart stopped.

_Holy. Fuck._

It was another picture of Izzy — similar to the one from the club weeks ago. She wasn’t looking at the camera, her body didn’t have that subtle freeze from when she modeled. This was a candid picture. And, from the looks of it, a candid picture that she hadn’t known was being taken.

But unlike the picture from the club, this one was well lit and not grainy. No, this picture was in high fucking resolution, taken with a proper camera. And it was _painfully_ clear what was happening in the photo.

It was Isabella in a barely-there bikini, leaning into the arms of a very fit Italian man that Dan vaguely recognized from Ralph Lauren underwear ads. Isabella was holding a drink-filled pineapple — a drink just like the one Isabella had texted him a picture of the day before yesterday. The fruity drink she said she was letting herself have just _one_ of as a reward to celebrate the end of a successful shoot.

In the picture, Isabella and the man were lounging on a beach, sharing a towel. There was a second towel spread out, a towel that must have been abandoned when Isabella crawled into this bloke’s lap. The man was propped up on one hand, legs sprawled out in front of him. Isabella was sat between them, her back pressed up against his bare chest. His other arm was snaked around her waist, his hand cupping her breast.

That’s not what stood out the most to Dan, though. Isabella’s head was tilted back, resting on his shoulder. Her lips were puckered up, as if she was expecting a kiss — and if the way he was looking down at her was anything to go by, she was going to get one.

Dan tried to rip his eyes away from the picture, but he couldn’t. He just kept staring and staring and staring, finding more and more little details. The bracelet he’d bought her for her birthday catching the sun. Isabella’s free hand resting high up on the man’s leg. A red mark on Isabella’s neck.

A red mark. A blood-red mark.

A hickey.

_How dare she?_

How _dare_ she give Dan a hard time for talking to Phil on twitter when _this_ was what she’d been up to while in Turks and Caicos!?

At this point, Dan didn’t know if this public display of affection with someone _other_ than him was Isabella looking for attention — his or the media’s, or both — or if this was actually a snapshot of something _more_.

It didn’t matter, though. Dan didn’t care _why_ Isabella was wrapped up in the Italian model’s arms, he didn’t care _who_ took the picture, he wasn’t even sure he cared _what_ had been happening when the picture was taken.

There wasn’t any acceptable excuse for the position they were in, for the way the man was touching Isabella, and the way Isabella was touching the man.

He was done. Out.

Dan’s blood was positively boiling. Suddenly, he didn’t think he needed that fake emergency phone call from Adaline anymore.

No. He definitely didn’t.

He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care about hurting Isabella’s feelings. He didn’t care about whether or not it was acceptable to break up with someone on Valentine’s Day. He didn’t give a _fuck_ about anything. Because the one rational thought he could latch onto was _this was not okay._

It was _not_ okay that Isabella was off frolicking with attractive models, petting them, being petted by them. Letting them leave tell-tale red marks on her neck.

This was not okay.

Dan jumped up from the couch, unable to sit still any longer. He had to do something with his energy, let of steam _somehow_ , otherwise he was going to storm down the hallway and scream at Isabella right now.

The only real reason he was forcing himself _not_ to do that was because he wanted to sort out his thoughts first. He wanted to have _some_ idea of what the fuck he was going to say.

So instead of rushing down the hallway, he paced up and down the lounge, walking from the balcony to the sofa and back again and again and again, determined to come up with a plan. His fingers were wrapped so tightly around his phone that he thought it might buckle under the pressure. The case dug hard into the inner knuckles of his hand, surely leaving red indents behind. He tried to see past the white hot anger that was clouding his vision and think rationally for a moment.

Was it possible that this was part of the shoot, and it had just been taken out of context by the gossip website? Dan tried to remember what she had been modeling. Didn’t it have something to do with _boats_?

Definitely. Dan remembered now — Isabella had whined that the company wanted their entire summer line to be modeled on sailboats in order to communicate that their clothes were associated with _a life of luxury_. She hated the boats because her hair kept getting messed up.

Boats. So this picture from the beach _couldn’t_ be from the shoot — not to mention that Isabella had told him that the unique, pineapple drink was a celebration for the shoot _finishing_. No, whatever was happening in this picture had nothing to do with modeling. And _everything_ to do with Isabella.

Fuck.

He needed to leave. He needed to rip off the fucking bandaid, end this relationship, and then fucking leave.

Dan forced himself to try to think about what he was going to say, what he was going to _do_.

_Did he have any belongings here?_

No. No way. He’d had a spare shirt here at one point but it had been so long since he’d slept over that he was almost certain that it had migrated back to his flat by now. And if he did happen to have anything else here… fuck it. He could buy a replacement.

 _Clack, clack_.

Fuck. Isabella was coming out of her room now.

 _Clack, clack_.

She was coming towards him, towards the lounge.

_Clack, clack._

This was it. Dan didn’t have any longer to figure out what he was going to say. Dan froze, facing the glass door to the balcony, unable to so much as _look at her_ right now.

Dan grounded himself by focusing on the dead-looking plant that Isabella never brought in. He liked that plant, once upon a time. He’d bought it for her, thinking that her flat needed some life, some color — which was rich, coming from him of all people. It had done well outside on her balcony, for a while anyway. And then it got cold, and Dan told her to take care of it, to bring it inside. He warned her that it wouldn’t survive the first freeze. It hadn’t.

Turns out Isabella just might not be good at caring for things.

_Clack, clack._

Her footsteps where in the lounge now, not far behind him.

“Hey there, baby,” she cooed, as if she was innocent. As if she hadn’t been cozied up to another man a mere forty-eight hours ago. “Why don’t you come sit on the couch and I’ll —”

“Do you call all of them _baby_ or is that just me?” Dan spat, slowly turning around to face her, doing his best to stay in control.

His eyes flicked over her, taking in her appearance.

He’d been right. Something more _comfortable_ meant something expensive looking and — _fuck_.

For a split second, Dan’s breath caught in his throat as he realized that Isabella had put on his _favorite_ outfit. He’d been expecting something red, something probably covered in ruffles, something to _properly_ celebrate Valentine’s Day.

But no.

No.

She was wearing the strappy, sheer black bra and panties combination that drove Dan _crazy_ — the [one](https://www.agentprovocateur.com/us_en/davinah-suspender-black) with the little crystals _everywhere,_ and the sheer skirt thing that attached to matching thigh-high black tights. Overtop, the delicate lace [kimono](https://www.agentprovocateur.com/us_en/daniela-kimono-black) he’d bought her for christmas was hanging open, surely not adding any warmth and _definitely_ not aiding in hiding any of her skin (that had been one of the biggest selling points when Dan bought the damn thing).

Of fucking course. Of fucking course she put on the _one_ outfit she knew that Dan couldn’t resist, even though she probably _did_ have a Valentinesy outfit she could have worn. Of course she’d pick tonight to go above and beyond, to do whatever she could, to make Dan stay with her.

But no matter how good Dan thought Isabella looked like this, it wasn’t going to work.

Dan crossed the room in two big strides, and halted in front of Isabella. He reached for her, but he didn’t grab her hips the way he once might have. Instead, he grabbed either side of Isabella’s open Kimono. Nimbly, Dan wrapped the garment around her, and cinched the fabric together with the big silky tie.

The change didn’t do much to add modesty to Isabella’s outfit, but Dan felt a little bit better having one more piece of fabric between them — even if that fabric was essentially just a five hundred pound bit of lace.

“I asked you question,” Dan said, staring into her confused eyes. His tone was tight, rigid — he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back his fury.

“I — I don’t — I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Isabella stuttered out, allowing her accent — the one she normally tried so hard to _hide_ — slip through. A careful, calculated choice to make Dan feel bad for her. There was a worried look in her eyes that made Dan suspect that she had _some_ idea what he was talking about, though.

“Allow me to refresh your memory, then,” Dan stated condescendingly. “Let’s see… drinks on the beach, a fit looking model...” Isabella’s eyes grew wide, filling with feigned innocence, as Dan spoke. “His hand on your breast, your head tossed back on his shoulder, your ass pressed up against his cock… does that help?”

“It wasn’t what it looked like,” Isabella responded quickly.

Too quickly.

“Oh it wasn’t, was it?” Dan laughed hollowly. He couldn’t _wait_ to hear how she tried to explain this.

“No—”

“You better think _really_ hard about what you’re about to say,” Dan warned her, his anger leaking out until he _knew_ he sounded just as furious as he felt. He could feel his fists clenching at his sides, and while Dan wasn’t a violent man, would _never_ hit someone, he needed some kind of outlet for the rage that was surging through him.

Isabella’s mouth fell shut. Her lush pink lips opened and closed one, two, three more times before she finally spoke again. Dan thought he could see her lips trembling. “It was for, um, publicity.”

“You didn’t exactly look like you were posing for the camera, Izzy.” Dan challenged.

“I — well, no. But we knew there were cameras there, we knew the gossip sites had reporters around. So we, um, we thought we could…” Dan gave her a _so what_ look. “We thought — we just thought it would be good for our images.”

Dan laughed again, a hauntingly empty sound, even to his own ears. “And pray tell, what image is that? Cheating girlfriend?”

“ _No!_ ” Isabella bristled, sparks of anger flashing in her eyes. “How dare you? It’s just two attractive models on a pretty beach. It was _innocent_.”

“Innocent?” Dan cried. “Innocent!? Innocent _my ass_. You don’t get a _hickey_ from anything _innocent_.” Dan was seething with anger, glaring at Isabella, who was staring defiantly back.

“You’re being dramatic, Danny. I’m not some _puta_ who cheats on her boyfriend,” Isabella remarked with a roll of her eyes and a toss of her hair. Dan could feel himself gritting his teeth at her glib attitude.

“Oh, really? Could have fooled me,” Dan said sourly. “And the rest of the world, for that matter. Did you think about that? Think about the fact that to the rest of the world you _would_ look like a cheating _puta_? What’s that going to do to your precious image?” he spit out.

“Yeah, well, I’d rather be in a scandal than _forgotten_ ,” Isabella shot back. That might be the first honest thing she’d said all night, Dan thought, laughing harshly.

“Oh my god, do you hear yourself? Do you realize how fucked up that is?” he asked. Faintly, he was aware of his phone vibrating in his back pocket — Adaline was no doubt calling with his scheduled emergency, like a good sister. But he wasn’t about to answer now. He didn’t need a fake emergency anymore.

Oh no, he was getting out of here using the very real emergency of _we’re done_.

“At least they’ll be talking about me,” Isabella argued. “You could learn something from me, or _you_ might just be forgotten,” she stated, her voice patronizing.

Dan was fuming, his fists were clenched tightly, and his chest was puffed out. His thoughts were scrambled in his head, and he couldn’t make words come out his mouth. Such a ludicrous claim was barely even worth a response.

“Besides,” Isabella continued flippantly, before Dan could think of anything to say. “It’s not like what some gossip site says about me affects you or _us_. You know I’m not a _puta_ , so what’s it matter?” she asked, as if she’d already won the fight. As if Dan accusing her of cheating wasn’t _directly_ affecting their relationship right now.

Dan wanted to lash out, to scream, to _yell_ , anything to make Isabella see just how _stupid_ she was.

“Do I?” Dan asked, keeping his voice dangerously low, refusing to let it shake. “ _Is_ that a thing I know?”

Isabella whipped her hand through her hair, gathering it on one side of her face — something she always did when she was agitated. “Yes?” she cried, her gaze fixed on a spot just above Dan’s head. Dan was sure she meant for it to come out strong, harsh, but Dan could hear the questioning tone leaking in.

It wasn’t very convincing.

“Look me in the eye, then.” Dan grabbed Isabella firmly by the shoulders, wrapping one hand securely around her chin and holding her head so she was forced to meet his gaze. The worried look in her eyes had grown into full-fledged panic. “Tell me nothing happened,” Dan challenged. “With him, or those guys from the club, or anyone else for that matter.”

She asked _him_ that question so often that Dan had never thought of asking it in return.

Isabella’s eyes flickered down as she drew her lip into her mouth and said nothing. It was all the answer that Dan needed.

He dropped her chin as if it was iron hot, physically recoiling from her. “Oh my god,” he muttered. “Something did happen. You actually fucking _did_ something,” he gasped. His heart was racing, and while Dan didn’t want Isabella anymore, while Dan didn’t care _who_ she flirted with or kissed or _fucked_ in the future, he did care about their past relationship. He did care about the fact that she’d done _something_ with other men while she was dating Dan.

“We were drunk, it didn’t count,” Isabella fought half-heartedly, refusing to meet Dan’s gaze. Her lip trembled and her hands shook, both of which were probably intentional efforts to make Dan feel bad for her.

Dan wasn’t sure _anything_ would make him feel bad for her. At this moment, he wouldn’t even feel bad for her if she was attacked by an angry mob of bees — and he was pretty sure she was allergic to bees.

“What happened?” he demanded. Isabella’s eyes flickered away, again, and she didn’t answer. “What the fuck happened when you were drunk?” Dan practically growled.

“We just hooked up a few times,” Isabella admitted. Her voice was sharp, defensive, but Dan could hear a hint of defeat in it.

“Hooked up? A few times?” Dan barked out. “What the _fuck_ does that even mean?”

Isabella looked at him blankly and gave a small shrug, but didn’t say anything else.

Slowly, realization began to dawn on Dan.

“Oh my god, you fucked him didn’t you?” he asked, betrayed.

“It didn’t mean anything, not like it does with you!” Isabella shouted, suddenly coming back to life. “If you’d just come home with me the night before I left, maybe I wouldn’t have done it!” she accused him, looking almost _triumphant_ , as if Dan not fucking her was good enough reason for her to _fuck other guys_.

“Right, so it’s my fault you cheated on me, then?” Dan asked, voice pointed. Isabella looked like she was about to agree, so Dan cut her off before she could. “What about those guys from the club, then, huh? Did you fuck _them_ , too?”

Face glazed in anger, Isabella stood her ground, glaring at Dan, but not saying _anything_. Despite the defensive tilt to her body language, however, Dan could see that she was petrified. A growing look of horror was building in her eyes.

This was the end, and they both knew it.

“Jesus,” Dan rubbed his hands down his face. “You did, didn’t you?

“We had all had a lot to drink…” Isabella argued weakly, giving the same shitty excuse again, as if _being drunk_ excused everything.

It sure as hell hadn’t excused Dan from cuddling up to Phil last week, not in her eyes — and not in his own, either.

Dan pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to calm down enough to speak again. Was this fight even one worth having? He knew, now, that absolutely every aspect of their relationship had been a lie. Until now, he’d known that Isabella was using him for fame, for money, but he’d never thought that the affection, the sex, the _physical_ part of their relationship was a sham too.

But, apparently, she’d fucked at least two — maybe three, who knows what happened with the guys from the club — other guys while they were dating. Dan wasn’t sure he wanted to know how many others there were, how deep this problem ran, how long he’d been unaware.

He just wanted _out._

“You know what?” he asked rhetorically. “Fuck this. I’m done.”

Dan stalked back to the couch and pulled his coat on, positively _seething_. He spun around sharply, heading for the door.

Isabella lept in front of him, blocking his path.

“Babe, wait.” Isabella’s voice was desperate. Her hands reached out for Dan’s coat before suddenly changing directions, pulling open the sash of her nightgown instead. Her breasts, her stomach, her tanned thighs, they were all back on display. For Dan.

Isabella trailed a hand down her side, lightly caressing all of her best features, trying to draw Dan’s eyes to the swell of her breasts, the curves of her hips. “Come here, Danny. I don’t need them. Let me show you that _you_ — that _our_ love is enough.”

“Love?” Dan scoffed, getting frustrated that Isabella was _still_ trying to seduce him. “This isn’t _love_ ,” he spat, “It never has been.” Dan ruffled his hair in frustration. “And honestly, I’m tired of being in a loveless relationship. You can officially go sleep with whoever you want, whether it’s for media attention, or because you’re drunk, or _whatever_ , because we’re not together anymore.”

Dan brushed past her, ignoring her call of his name as he moved to the front door. He was done with this. He didn’t need to be here anymore. He’d said his piece, and it didn’t matter how hard Isabella begged or whored herself out — Dan wasn’t taking her back.

Dan had almost made it all the way out of the lounge door when Isabella switched tactics.

“This is about that boy, isn’t it?” Isabella accused, her voice shrill, apparently hellbent on turning the blame onto Dan.

She couldn’t argue that she wasn’t a cheater, but she could sure as hell try to argue that their break up wasn’t about _her_.

That drew Dan to a halt. Suddenly, he felt more angry than he’d ever felt in his entire life. He squeezed his hands into fists at his sides.

“Phil?” Dan raged, whirling around to face her again. “You think this is about Phil?” he accused. “This has _nothing_ to bloody _do_ with Phil! This is about you! And me! This is about _us_!” he bellowed, chest heaving with anger.

“Well _excuse me_ for not believing you!” Isabella spat bitingly. “We were fine until _he_ came along!” she pressed.

“Fine? _Fine?_ You think we were _fine_? ” Dan roared, his voice growing louder with each word. He couldn’t _believe_ the audacity of her. “News flash: we weren’t _fine_! I was just so fucking _blind_ that I couldn’t see the fact that you treat me like shit!” Dan ran his hands through his hair again, yanking painfully on the strands in an attempt to do _something_ with the anger pulsing through him. “How — how I didn’t see it is _beyond_ me. Fucking everyone else did, ages before I finally realized!”

Dan didn’t know what else to say, and yet he wished he did. He wished he could find the words to articulate his utter _hatred_ of Isabella. He wished he could shove it into her face that Dan knew she’d only been using him this whole time. He wished he could tell her how fucking _hurtful_ it was that she had actually _fucked around_. But he just couldn’t make the words come out.

“We’re done,” he repeated instead.

Isabella floundered. Every attempt, every word out of her mouth to defend herself, had failed, and she knew it. Her face went purple with repressed frustration.

“You’re going to regret this, Danny,” Isabella eventually threatened.

“Unlikely, _Izzy_ ,” Dan replied, unable to keep the mockery out of his voice.

“You’re going to be lonely and sad,” Isabella stated cynically. “I give it _four nights_ of being alone in bed before you come back here, tail between your legs.”

Dan scoffed.

“I’m better sleeping on my own! I’d rather spend every single night of the rest of my damn life _alone_ than sleep with you for one more night!” Dan spat.

That had struck a nerve — Isabella looked aghast. If there was one thing, _one thing_ Isabella always had, it was her sexuality, the way men wanted her.

“You’re weak, Howell!” Isabella screamed, a manic glint in her eye, her hand pointing up at him. “You’re weak, and you’re desperate, and you’re needy, and you’ll come back. _You’ll see_!”

To hell with this. Dan had _tried_ to leave it at that, but he wasn’t having this. He _wasn’t_.

“You know what?” he seethed, standing his ground. “I have been weak. For _months_ I’ve been weak. I’ve let you push me around, tell me what to do. All for what? The hope of a little affection? Well fuck that. I’m not going to be weak anymore. Go fuck yourself, Isabella.”

Dan turned on his heel, and stormed down the hallway, his last piece said.

He could hear the _clack clack clack_ of Isabella’s stilettos chasing after him, but he didn’t stop until his hand was on the doorknob.

“Danny, what’s going on?” Isabella pleaded quietly, her entire tone shifting. It was ridiculous, so unbelievably not fitting with everything that had happened. It was like Isabella thought being _sweet_ was going to fix this. The same way she’d thought sex would.

Dan twisted the handle, cracking the door open slightly, before turning halfway back around — just far enough that Isabella could see his face. Just enough so that she could see how _fucking serious_ he was.

“I’m done. With being weak, and with you.”

Dan pulled the door open the rest of the way, stepped into the hallway, and _slammed_ the door closed behind him.

He was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ plants, anyone? ](https://cpb-us-e1.wpmucdn.com/sites.psu.edu/dist/a/33226/files/2016/02/love-fern.gif)
> 
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> [ like and reblog on tumblr ](http://imnotinclinedtomaturity.tumblr.com/post/174326241120/love-yourself-chapter-13linedtomaturity.tumblr.com)
> 
> TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS.


	14. 14 (17,006 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a big shout out to elizajane for reading this mammoth of a chapter multiple times and helping make it better
> 
> can you believe i'm posting a 17k chapter? because i can't. there was just NO WAY to split it so.... here you go.

Dan didn’t _entirely_ trust Isabella to not chase after him. The second Dan was out the door, he was desperate to put as much distance between himself and Isabella as possible. As much as he truly _hated_ exercise, Dan practically sprinted away, paranoidly glancing over his shoulder every couple of feet to make sure that Isabella’s signature _clack clack clack_ wasn’t trailing behind him.

Instead, he waited until he was five blocks away from Isabella’s building before he slowed to a fast paced walk and pulled out his phone. Dan was ready — he was ready to be fucking _done_ with Isabella in his life, and he was ready to _move fucking forward_ with Phil. When he opened his phone, he was determined to do just that.

 _Jesus_ , he had six missed calls from Adaline. For a moment, Dan had forgotten about Adaline’s emergency phone call. Just as he swiped away the notification, another call came through. Dan pressed the decline button — he’d call her back in just a minute.

He had something else to do first.

Riding the adrenaline high of finally, _finally_ doing what he wanted to do, Dan opened twitter and — _fuck_. He’d left the app open on the picture of Isabella. Knowing that she’d fucked that model, that the mark on her neck was from another man, didn’t hurt as much as Dan had thought it would. It fucking sucked, of course.

After all, cheating was the _one place_ where Dan drew a firm line of what was acceptable and what wasn’t. Honestly, he was more upset about the fact that he’d been _cheated on_ , than about the fact that Isabella had been the one doing the cheating. He hated her, he hated her for a _lot_ of reasons. He hated her for the way that she used him, for the way that she manipulated him, for the way that she _cheated_ on him.

But above everything else, he was just glad to be _done_ with her.

Replies were rolling in, most of them tagging both him and Isabella, and, weirdly enough, a few tagging Phil as well. Deciding his mission could wait a moment, Dan clicked on Isabella’s name, his finger hovering over the unfollow button.

If he clicked that, if he actually unfollowed Isabella, people would surely notice. People would undoubtedly piece together the scandalous picture with the fact that he’d unfollowed his bloody _girlfriend_ and know.

Know that they’d broken up.

Dan didn’t give a fuck. He’d meant what he’d said to Isabella. He was _done_. The fallout of breaking up with Isabella didn’t phase him, fans could think whatever the hell they wanted to — most of it would probably be right, anyway. With a surge of defiance, Dan smashed the unfollow button.

That felt good.

But not good enough.

Fuck Isabella, fuck her being in his life and having even an _inkling_ of control over him.

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He clicked the gear next to her name, pressing _Block @IsabellaDeLaRenta_ before he could change his mind.

That felt _really_ good.

At least now he wouldn’t have to see whatever bullshit she pulled and would be relatively sheltered from the inevitable drama.

But that wasn’t what he’d come on the app to do.

Dan tabbed over to his DMs. Phil’s name was right at the top of the list.

Dan could do this. He was on a roll of doing rash and brazen things tonight, he might as well fully commit. He’d been holding back from this, because it felt like a definite step across a line, a line that he wasn’t willing to cross. But now, the line was gone. He was free to do whatever the fuck he wanted.

He didn’t let himself overthink the message. It didn’t matter how it came out. It could be flirty or blunt or a little bit aggressive, it didn’t matter. So he wasn’t about to spend thirty minutes crafting it.

 _Daniel Howell_ : text me about drinks tomorrow 07712345678

Well, it probably could have stood to be a _little_ less abrupt, but whatever. Dan’s point was made. Isabella was gone and there was no longer anything stopping him from texting Phil, from having Phil as an actual contact in his phone.

Okay, next thing.

Deciding it was time to call Adaline back, Dan switched back to the phone app, but quickly got distracted once again. The third person down on his missed calls list was _Izzy D.L.R <3_.

Fuck that. Dan tapped on her name, pulling up the contact page.

Should he edit the name, or just delete her entirely?

It seemed stupid to keep her number in his phone _just_ for the sake of it potentially, _someday_ being useful. What did Dan care? He couldn’t imagine a single situation that was worth the emotional weight of keeping her number in his phone. So instead of just deleting the heart, Dan scrolled all the way to the bottom and _smashed_ the _delete contact_ button, quickly accepting the annoying _are you sure_?

Yes. Dan was very, _very_ sure.

 _Fuck_ , that felt _heavenly_. Having that last little bit of Isabella completely _gone_ from his life — knowing that he didn’t have her number anymore, knowing that if he wanted to talk to her _at all_ that he would have to unblock her on twitter… it all felt like this very definitive _wall_ between them.

He liked that wall.

Okay, _now_ Dan could focus on calling Adaline back. Dan tapped back to his call log, happy to see Isabella’s name gone, and clicked on Adaline’s name. The phone didn’t even make it through a full ring before a sharp voice answered.

“Daniel. James. Howell. I’ve been calling you nonstop for forty-five minutes,” Adaline greeted him sternly.

“I know, sorry, I couldn’t answer.”

“Wasn’t the whole point that you needed to answer so you had an escape? I was beginning to think you died.” Adaline sounded annoyed, but Dan could hear the concern laced in her voice as well.

“Chill out, _Mum_ , I’m alive,” Dan joked, high off the fact that he was _finished_ with Isabella. No amount of irritation from Adaline could phase him now — not while he was this happy.

“Fuck off,” Adaline grumbled, never pleased to be compared to their mother (even if she was one of the sweetest women alive). “What the hell was happening?”

“Well, see, I was out to dinner with Isabella originally. And then I ended up back at Isabella’s—” Dan just about gagged on the name, which, judging by Adaline’s giggle, didn’t escape her notice. “I didn’t want to, um, _you know_.” Dan coughed awkwardly.

“So you thought faking an emergency would be better than just saying no, like an adult?”

“Look, I didn’t want to dig myself into an even deeper a hole. I had these grand plans to take her to breakfast tomorrow and dump her, but I knew if I pissed her off too much tonight, she wouldn’t agree to see me before she went back off to wherever the fuck she’s planning to go tomorrow.”

And _thank god_ that Dan had successfully broken up with her before she jetted off to Vancouver, or Switzerland, or Melbourne — or wherever the fuck she’d said. He wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to end things over the phone — or worse, _text_ — and he couldn’t imagine suffering through that relationship for another _second_.

Adaline was quiet for a moment.

“What do you mean _had_ plans? Please don’t tell me you changed your mind,” she begged.

“Er, well, sort of,” Dan stumbled, a little charigned.

“Are you fucking serious? Don’t make me get on a bus and come smack sense into you,” Adaline threatened. “God, I thought you’d _finally_ figured out that you were dating a total bitch.”

“No!” Dan interrupted fiercely. “I mean — I did! She’s a bitch! I get it, loud and clear. Everything’s fine.” Dan did his best to console his sister. Everything was _fine_ — it was _more_ than fine at the moment, all things considered.

Dan stopped at a crosswalk, pushing the _walk_ button repeatedly. He could feel his excitement, his energy, his complete exasperation with the entire situation itching beneath his skin. “I broke up with her tonight,” he continued. “That’s why I didn’t answer.”

“Wait, on _Valentine’s Day_?” Adaline screeched, utterly scandalized. “What the fuck, bro?”

Dan took a breath, ready to defend his actions, but Adaline cut him off.

“Look, I wanted you to break up with her as much as anyone else, obvi, but I thought you were determined to be _the good guy_ or whatever. Which, you know, would mean waiting until it’s _not_ the day of love?!”

“It’s a long story, and I don’t want to get into the details. But if you go on twitter, you’ll get the gist of it.”

“Okayyy, should I go look now or…?” Adaline trailed off. Dan could hear the faint _do do do doooo_ of her computer starting up in the background.

He didn’t particularly want to deal with Adaline’s reaction to everything on twitter at this moment in time though.

“Later’s fine.” Dan rubbed his hand down his face. “I actually have a different favor to ask you.”

“Someone’s needy tonight.”

“Shut up, you act like I do nothing for you.” Dan pulled his coat tighter around his body — _jesus_ it was cold tonight.

“Fair enough, what’s up?” Adaline asked more nonchalantly than Dan had anticipated, given the drama of the evening.

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” Dan asked tentatively as he stalled at another street corner, looking back and forth for cars before he carried onward, carried himself towards home, towards the comfort of his own bed.

“Um, I might have a date tomorrow night, but I don’t know.” Adaline sounded just uncertain enough of her plans for Dan to interject his own life into them.

“How attached are you to going on it?” he asked bluntly.

“Not. Why?”

Thank _fuck_ , Dan thought. “Well, you know Phil, the one from —”

“Twitter and the coffee shop, yeah, I know Phil.”

“Oh. Right.” Dan felt himself blushing and was glad that it was dark and no one was around. Of course Addie knew about Phil, Dan talked about him constantly. “Well, I like him,” Dan blurted out. He held his breath, waiting for Adaline’s reaction. It wasn’t normal for him to have actual _feelings_ for someone new so soon after a breakup. Having grown up in the same house as Dan, Adaline probably knew that better than anyone.

But her response didn’t come.

“I mean, _like him like him_ ,” he added when Adaline still didn’t say anything.

“No shit,” Addie shot back. “ Are you going to say anything new or…?”

“You knew?” Dan asked in surprise as he pulled open the door to his building. The warm air of the lobby felt heavenly against his cheeks, and Dan almost felt guilty for the wave of frigid cold he must have let in.

 _Almost_. But right now, he was feeling too high off all of his decisions to feel too bad about anything.

“Dan, I’ve watched you date how many people? I’m not an idiot,” Adaline said, interrupting Dan’s thoughts. Dan jottled a little, trying to think back to what Adaline was talking about, and blushed when he realized.

“Oh,” he muttered dumbly. He gave a short two-fingered wave to the doorman as he power walked to the lift, eager to be in the comfortable safety of his own flat.

Dan was silent the entire lift ride, trying to process what it could mean if Adaline realized that Dan properly _liked_ Phil. If Adaline knew all the way from Wokingham, had Phil caught on, too?

Although, Adaline _had_ watched him cycle through relationship after relationship, fuckbuddy after fuckbuddy. She wasn’t _that_ young while Dan was living at home, and he’d never been particularly subtle about it. Somewhere along the way, Adaline had developed a knack for picking up on when Dan was interested in, well, _fucking_ someone.

Maybe there was hope that Dan’s interest wasn’t _quite_ that obvious to Phil.

“So what about Phil, this boy you _like like_?” Adaline prompted teasingly when Dan was silent too long for her liking. Even though Dan had brought the subject up, he had _no idea_ where to begin talking when it came to the topic of Phil.

Or, at least, he had no idea how to talk about it without just _gushing._

“Hang on,” Dan murmured when the lift doors opened. He sat his phone down on the table so he had both hands free to shrug out of his coat, letting it fall somewhere in the foyer. There were more important things to deal with right now that being tidy.

Dan picked his phone back up, finally having decided what he needed to say first. “Well, _objectively_ ,” Dan explained, with just a hint of annoyance at his own conclusion shining through, “I know I need a bit of a break from dating before I just go for it with Phil.”

“I’m sorry, did I hear that right?”

“Before I date Phil, I know I should take a break from dating,” Dan repeated a little bit louder, in case the connection was weak.

“That’s what I thought you said.” Adaline sounded stunned.

“Yeah…”Dan tugged roughly at his tie on his way to the bedroom, trying to get out of this damn suit, this damn _night_ as quickly as possible. “You’re being weird.”

“ _I’m_ being weird? _You’re_ the one that’s being weird. I can’t believe that _Dan Howell_ is going to take a break from dating?”

“Fuck off, it’s not that big of a deal,” he grumbled, his free hand trying to undo his belt.

“It’s a huge deal.” Adaline corrected. “I literally can’t remember a time when you weren’t at least _sleeping_ with someone.”

So maybe she was right. Maybe Dan had never gone a full week after a breakup without sleeping with someone new. And maybe Dan had always made an effort to have _someone_ in his life, whether it was a relationship or a… fuckbuddy.

Dan sighed, not able to be really _annoyed_ since Adaline was _technically_ right. “I know, okay. But that’s the thing. I don’t want Phil to be _just_ sex and I’m afraid that if I try to date him right now I’ll fuck it up.” Adaline made a sympathetic sound. “It matters, okay? I want to do this right.”

“Okay, so how is all of this rolling around to needing a favor?” Dan could tell by the amusement in her tone he was already probably going to win.

“I kind of asked him to get drinks tomorrow. And it’s not, like, a date, I’m sure. I asked him before Izzy and I broke up. But now that I’m not with Isabella anymore, I’m not sure I trust drunk, horny me to not drag him back to my place and fuck him.” He put Adaline on speaker and set the phone on his dresser.

“Y-you’re fucking rid-ic-iculous,” Adaline managed to say through loud laughter. Her laughter was contagious, and Dan found himself unable to control his own giggles as he realized just how bloody absurd it was that he was asking his little sister — who he used to babysit _all the time_ — to essentially babysit him.

“You’re not wrong.” Dan agreed, once he’d gotten his own laughter under control. “But — ugh this is so childish. I want a chaperone to make sure I don’t do anything dumb.”

“Get Louise to go with you.”

“I don’t actually trust her to stop me. I think she’s rooting too much for me and Phil that drunk-Louise would probably actually try to whore me out to him.” Dan glanced down at his hands as they unbuttoned his shirt and, for a split second, he imagined they were softer, paler hands.

 _Fuck_. No he really couldn’t be trusted to be drinking around Phil alone.

“So you want me to trek _all_ the way into the city, _just_ to have drinks with you and your crush in order to stop you from doing anything stupid,” Adaline deadpanned, not bothering to hide just how ludicrous she thought Dan was being.

“Not _just_ to have drinks. You can stay over, obviously, and we’ll do something on Saturday.”

“Hmmm, tempting.” Adaline considered it for a moment. “Wait, a second.” She sounded suspicious.

“What?” Dan asked warily.

“Last time I checked, you’d sworn that you weren’t going to introduce us to anyone that wasn’t _serious_.”

“One, I said I wasn’t bringing anyone who wasn’t serious _home_ and I’m not _bringing_ Phil _home_ , and two, we aren’t _dating_ — yet,” Dan retorted, throwing himself onto his bed with a content sigh. It felt so good to be back home, especially knowing that tomorrow, he’d wake up and not have to pretend to care about Isabella anymore.

“I see how it is, you’re playing the technicality card.” Adaline’s smug teasing was beginning to make Dan worried that she wouldn’t actually agree.

“Look, will you do it or not?” Dan snapped impatiently.

“A chance to watch you drunkenly embarrass yourself in front of someone you like? Obviously I’m coming.”

“I resent that,” Dan muttered, but Adaline kept talking over him.

“But you get to figure out what we’re telling Mum and Dad. And Phil, for that matter, because I assume you don’t want to tell him that you made your little sister travel an hour just to come babysit you.”

“You’re the best Adaline. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll book you a ticket and forward you the confirmation when I hang up.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow you fucking idiot.”

 _You’re a fucking idiot_ , Dan thought back at her bitterly, because Adaline had already hung up.

*****************************

It was half past ten, and while Phil didn’t usually sleep until closer to three, he was already getting ready for bed. He figured if he was going to feel somewhat sorry and pathetic for himself, he might as well do it while wrapped up in his green and blue check duvet.

He’d never been the type to really buy into Valentine’s Day — normally he didn’t care if he was single or not on the holiday. But this year, the date had felt a little like a slap in the face.

Dan’s visit to Beans and Grind, had been lovely — for the most part. No matter what day it was, Phil would always savor any time he got with Dan, but he had been particularly grateful to get a few hours of Dan’s undivided attention _today_.

It was just that, well, it had left him wanting _more_.

To be fair, Phil knew that there was _no_ amount of time that he could have with Dan that wouldn’t leave Phil wanting more. Looking back, Phil couldn’t identify _when_ he’d gone from simply enjoying spending time with Dan to _craving_ it and dreading its end.

Phil, could, however pick out the exact moment that he’d realized that his feelings for Dan were so much stronger than a normal crush.

It had been a cold day filled with snow flurries and gusts of wind. Phil honestly hadn’t expected Dan to come into the coffee shop — if Phil hadn’t have had to work, he certainly wouldn’t have left his flat. But just an hour into Phil’s shift, when the snow flurries had been at their heaviest, Dan had waltzed in, wearing a fluffy hat and an oversized coat. He’d brought his laptop with him, but he’d never got around to opening it. Instead, he’d ordered a hot chocolate, demanding that Phil drink one with him. It had taken a few sips of the hot beverage before Dan had finally felt warm enough to shed his massive coat, and when he had —

When Dan had taken off his coat, Phil had seen what Dan was wearing.

Phil’s jumper.

Out of all of the that clothes Dan owned, for some unfathomable reason, Dan had chosen to wear Phil’s _pugs not drugs_ jumper — a jumper that was so unbelievably different from Dan’s normal aesthetic that Phil had originally worried Dan wouldn’t even wear it as an alternative to his own soaked shirt.

And yet there Dan was, wearing it for no apparent reason other than because he’d wanted to.

Dan had curled up on his chair, somehow, and gotten lost in conversation with Phil. He’d looked impossibly young and cuddly and comfortable, and Phil had known right then that not only did he want to see this version of Dan again, he wanted to see _every_ version of Dan.

God, Phil was so fucked.

Valentine’s Day just _sucked_ this year. The things that he had done — work, _see Dan_ — hadn’t sucked, sure. But the whole day left a rotten taste in his mouth. Left him bitter about the fact that he’d gone and fallen for someone who _wasn’t available_.

Trying to minimize the agony of the day, Phil had completely avoided the internet all day, other than his brief DMs with Dan that morning. He just hadn’t been in the mood to deal with the constant _love love love_ that was sure to be everywhere, and figured it was safest to hold off until tomorrow.

But at quarter to midnight, when his laptop had died and Phil was too lazy to go across the room to find the television remote, he gave into the temptation. How bad could it be?

The first thing he noticed when he opened up twitter was that he had a new DM from Dan that he’d somehow missed — he must have cleared the notification on accident. The second thing he noticed was that he had approximately a _thousand_ mentions. Which wasn’t a _crazy_ amount for him — not by a long shot. But usually, any significant amount of mentions was preceded by _something_ from him, and he had been completely silent today.

Maybe some of his followers were just wishing him a Happy Valentine’s Day? In the past, his followers had started hashtags on his birthday or a holiday — maybe they had done that again?

The temptation of knowing what the _hell_ was going on somehow overrided Phil’s perpetual desire to talk to Dan. Hesitantly, Phil clicked on his notifications, and scrolled through his mentions.

 _@AmazingKendra:_ @danielhowell i get that @IsabellaDeLaRenta is pretty but have you seen @AmazingPhil

 _@DanIsTheMan64:_ @danielhowell tbh your smile looked more genuine in that picture with @AmazingPhil last week

 _@DieDanellaDie:_ @danielhowell fuck #danella. i’m fucking disgusted with @IsabellaDeLaRenta and you can do better. i only ship #phan now @AmazingPhil

There had to be some kind of context to these tweets. Phil kept scanning, trying to find someone who included _something_ more helpful in their messages. Finally, he found one that tagged someone other than him, Dan, or Isabella.

 _@iHowellForDan:_ @danielhowell did you see the @Tatler picture? Just move on already (preferably to @AmazingPhil)

Phil knew about Tatler. They were a gossip website that he’d been featured on one too many times to have any respect for, but he was desperate to figure out what the _hell_ was going on.

Well, that seemed as good of a place to start as any.

Phil’s stomach was clenched in a tight knot as he clicked on @Tatler. He had _no_ idea what to expect.

 _Fuck_ they tweeted a lot. How many people _ran_ this account? It couldn’t possibly be just one. The gossip website was far too massive for its own good. Each tweet felt like a shot in the dark in the hopes that _something_ would land them some hits.

It look a moment of scrolling to find anything that might be relevant and then — shit. That was it. That explained at least _some_ part of what was going on.

There was a very risque picture of Isabella on a beach in some random dude’s arms. According to the magazine, the picture was taken just two days ago.

The nerves in Phil’s stomach turned to guilt. He’d been hoping, _praying_ for Dan and Isabella to break up. But he’d _never_ wanted it to be because of something as serious or cruel as Isabella cheating on Dan, and, well, that’s exactly what this picture looked like.

Wait, shit.

 _Dan_.

Was Dan okay?

Phil couldn’t even begin to imagine how Dan might be feeling right now, if that picture had any truth to it, if Dan had _seen_ it.

Phil abandoned his quest to figure out what the hell was going on in favor of opening the DM from Dan. If Dan _was_ upset and had messaged Phil about everything that was happening — whatever that may be — Phil wanted to be there for him.

The message wasn’t Dan freaking out, though. In fact, it didn’t seem to have any connection to what was happening on twitter at all.

 _Daniel Howell_ : text me about drinks tomorrow 07712345678

It was short and simple, but it made Phil’s heart soar. Actual Dan Howell’s phone number was sitting in Phil’s twitter inbox. He hadn’t even had to ask for it.

Part of Phil wanted to continue stalking twitter, to read through all of the available tweets to figure out what the _hell_ was going on. But if Phil had learned anything through being in the public eye, it was that more often than not, whatever the public was assuming to be true on twitter was either wildly off base, or a gross oversimplification of things.

Besides, he’d rather hear about whatever was happening in Dan’s life from Dan himself. And now, Phil had a much more efficient way to get a hold of him.

Maybe it would come across as eager, perhaps even too desperate, since the message had only came in an hour and a half ago, but Phil didn’t care. He copy and pasted the number into a new text message, only to stare blankly at the screen.

What the fuck was he supposed to say?

Did he mention the shitshow that was happening on twitter? Did he ask about how Dan’s Valentine’s Day was? Should he ask if there was any truth to the picture of Isabella?

Phil opted to ignore all of the questions he had — at least for now — and send something more casual, allowing Dan to take charge of the conversation and say… whatever he wanted Phil to know.

 **Phil:** This already seems like a more efficient method of communication than twitter -Phil

Even though Phil knew Dan was a night owl, he didn’t expect Dan to text back instantly. It was, of course, still Valentine’s Day, and just because Dan had a moment free on his phone earlier, didn’t mean he still did. Plus, even if Dan _was_ home, he probably wasn’t attached to his phone like Phil was.

Boy, was Phil wrong.

It took less than a minute for Dan to reply. And reply. And reply.

 **Dan:** hey there stranger

 **Dan:** i agree. it’s too easy to miss messages on twitter

 **Dan:** now i can just shout at you. much easier.

Phil chuckled. And to think that _he_ had been worried about coming across as too eager. Meanwhile, Dan was sitting somewhere _triple texting_ Phil.

Not that Phil was complaining.

No, Phil was sat in bed at midnight, staring down at his phone, smiling like a complete idiot because of a _boy_. How was it that Dan was able to make Phil this flustered, this _happy_ from halfway across town?

He felt like a lovesick teenager — and was half tempted to call up his best friend to help him draft a text message like he was fifteen again.

That was ridiculous, Phil realized. He was twenty-goddamn-seven years old. He could message back a cute boy on his own for fucks sake.

He wasn’t sure what to say though. He started typing, trying to figure out the best response.

 _I know, twitter was a pain_ — delete.

 _How was tonight?_ — delete.

 _So you want to_ —

Phil’s third attempt to write a message was interrupted by another text from Dan.

 **Dan:** you still up for drinks tomorrow?

 _That_ message wasn’t hard to respond to, at least. A smile snuck its way onto Phil’s face. He felt more like a teenager getting asked to a school dance than he cared to admit.

_I am if you am_

That made it sound like Phil was being _dragged_ out to drinks with Dan — which was definitely _not_ the case.

Delete.

_Absolutely_

That sounded a bit _too_ eager, right?

Delete.

Phil tried again, and ended up settling on something that probably still counted as too eager in most people’s books, but, well, a lot of Phil’s actions so far could probably be considered as _too eager_.

 **Phil:** Of course! What time are you free?

 **Dan:** anytime after 7 works for me

 **Dan:** one small thing though

 _Oh god_ , Phil’s heart dropped into his stomach.

A million possibilities rushed through Phil’s head. Had Isabella put her foot down about Dan spending time with Phil? Had Dan realized how flirty their relationship was and gotten uncomfortable? Was Dan going to want to bring Isabella along for drinks?

This was it, Dan was going to find some way to force a line between them. He was going to invite Isabella or remind Phil that he was a man in a committed relationship or tell Phil that he was one hundred percent straight.

Phil took a deep breath and forced himself to respond as naturally as he could.

 **Phil:** What’s up?

The three typing dots seemed to flash in time with Phil’s far-too-fast heart. _Dot, dot, dot, thump, thump, thump._ What the fuck was Dan typing? Why was it taking so long? What did—

 **Dan:** i just found out today that my sister is coming into london tomorrow. do you mind if she tags along?

His sister. It was just his sister.

Phil let out the breath he was holding, relief coursing through his body. Dan wasn’t trying to build some wall between them, Phil wasn’t being pushed away. Dan just wanted to bring his sister to drinks with them.

 _A sister that it took Isabella almost a year to meet_ , a self-satisfied piece of Phil’s mind added without his consent.

 _ **Phil:**_ Sounds great! Where do you want to meet?

 **Dan:** do you know harolds? it’s like a block over from b&g

 **Phil:** Yeah! Emmalee and I have gone there a few times. Sounds good! Meet there at 7?

 **Dan:** great xx

****************************

The next day went by far, far slower than Phil wanted it to. He was anxious to get through his meetings with the BBC and his manager, Marianne, so that he could finally get to the part of the day where he got to see Dan.

Dan, who a whole mass of people on twitter were speculating might be single now. Dan, who had given Phil his number right after a risque picture of his girlfriend had leaked. Dan, this boy that Phil was more than a little enamoured with and who might, _just might_ , like Phil back.

And Phil wasn’t just getting to _see_ Dan, he was getting to have _drinks_ with Dan.

But the day seemed to absolutely _drag_ on.

The day’s meetings at the BBC had been longer and more frustrating than normal. Overall, Phil was incredibly lucky. He was one of the first internet creators that the BBC had taken a risk on, and the success of his weekly radio show had not only opened the doors for dozens of other internet creators to work with the BBC, but had also allowed him to be granted a frankly ridiculous amount of creative freedom.

However, his shows producers had recently been pushing for Phil to do a special one-time show with a guest co-host — preferably someone with a strong musical background. They’d said it was to broaden the audience that listens to BBC Radio shows and, for some absurd reason, they’d thought Phil’s show would be the best place to start. They were really pleased with the younger demographic Phil’s show had reached, but were hoping to introduce new listeners — who were supposedly more interested in music than the internet — to his show.

Phil understood their point; the radio station was first and foremost about _music,_ and his show (as well as several that had started after the success of Phil’s) focused much more heavily on other things. It made sense that they would want to have a special episode (or maybe even two, as they had hinted at) with someone who knew more about music than Phil did, someone that appealed to a different demographic. It would attract new listeners to the show who were interested in the special host — listeners who would potentially turn into more devoted listeners of BBC Radio.

The producers weren’t particularly picky about _who_ Phil invited onto his show— in fact, they had thrown several _big_ , exciting names at Phil. They seemed fairly confident that they could secure a one-time appearance from anyone performing in the Live Lounge in the upcoming weeks. The producers had also offered to reach out to people from other parts of the music industry, if Phil preferred. As he walked back to his apartment, his mind was still reeling at some of the names they had suggested.

And it was great. Phil _knew_ he should be ecstatic about this kind of opportunity, flattered that the BBC had thought that his measly little radio show was the right place to start gaining a new demographic. But the fact of the matter was, Phil was too _fucking awkward_ to have a co-host he barely knew — especially a famous one. When it came to interacting with people, Phil was a mess. At least when he did collabs, he was able to edit out all of his awkward social interactions. But live? Live, he would be forced to endure his viewers mocking his social ineptitude for _weeks_.

He just wasn’t very good at interacting with people he didn’t know, and he didn’t need the whole world to see that.

So Phil had tried his best to fight them, to lay out _why_ that might be a horrific idea. At the end of the meeting, though, they had made him promise to _think_ about it, and if he came up with anyone he would collaborate with — anyone at all — to email his producers as soon as possible, and they would try to set it up.

 _Unlikely_ , Phil scoffed. He was fairly certain that there was no way he was going to feel comfortable hosting some bigshot that he barely knew on his show.

Because of all of the conflict, Phil’s meetings took longer than he anticipated. By the time he got home, he barely had time to change and have a quick bite to eat before he had to head out the door to meet Dan.

************************

Phil, who always did his best to be on time, showed up to Harold’s at 6:58, knowing that there was absolutely no chance that Dan was there yet. If Phil had learned _one thing_ while getting to know Dan, it was that Dan was basically incapable of being on time.

Surely, it had to annoy a lot of people in his life, but Phil found it to kind of be an endearing quality. The more he got to know Dan, the more he realized that Dan was always late because he had a tendency to get wholeheartedly wrapped up in whatever he was doing, which usually caused him to misjudge how long he needed to get ready, or how much time he needed to allot for travel. That was just how Dan was, Phil had discovered — an unbelievably passionate person.

So when Phil walked into Harold’s two minutes early, only to be greeted with, “Hey, Phil! Over here!” he understandably had a moment of panic. For a moment, Phil was convinced that a fan just happened to be in the same bar where Phil was about to _have drinks_ with _Dan Howell_.

But then his eyes found the person shouting at him, landing on none other than Dan himself, who was seated with his back to the door. He was peeking out over the edge of a tall booth he was tucked into — a small, four-person booth in the back corner.The bar, with its dim lighting and slightly dodgy atmosphere, already lent itself to anonymity, but the far back booth, with the flickering light and high walls, practically screamed _leave us alone_.

It was exactly the booth Phil would have picked out, and not _just_ because he was hoping to avoid the scrutiny of his viewers for the evening.

Fuck, Phil shouldn’t be thinking about that. He had no actual evidence that Dan was single — twitter was notorious for getting facts wrong. And even _if_ Dan turned out to be single now, this _wasn’t a date_. When Dan had originally asked Phil to get drinks, he was literally on his way to a Valentine’s Day date with this _girlfriend._ Plus, Dan’s _sister_ was getting drinks with them. If that didn’t scream _this isn’t a date_ , Phil wasn’t sure what did.

But still, Phil felt a spark of happiness that he couldn’t quite squash when he thought about the fact that Dan had selected the most intimate booth in the bar.

Phil made his way over to Dan’s side, dodging around all of the empty tables. “You’re here,” he said in lieu of a proper greeting when he got to the booth.

“Yeah, you spoon. Of course I’m here.” Dan had a smirk on his face, but his eyes reflected genuine happiness. Whatever Tatler was insinuating about Isabella must not be true, not if Dan currently looked _this_ happy. Phil tried not to feel _too_ disappointed. Above everything else, Dan had become one of Phil’s _best friends_ , and Phil shouldn’t be rooting for his heart to get broken.

“I just meant, you’re early,” Phil teased.

At the end of the booth, Dan’s coat was hanging on a hook — it was the one that Dan claimed made him look like a wraith, but Phil would argue just made him look kissable.

Phil pulled off his much brighter coat and hung it over top of Dan’s.

Assuming the second drink sat next to Dan belonged to Adaline, Phil started to move around to the other side of the table, prepared to sit across from Dan, but Dan caught him off guard when he grabbed onto Phil’s sleeve and pulled him into the booth next to him. The full, fruity looking drink was pushed towards him.

Dan nodded his head and raised his own drink in a quick _cheers_ motion.

Phil wrapped his hands around the cold drink, pulling it in front of him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.” He tipped his drink towards Dan, mimicking the _cheers_ , but way less smoothly. Unlike Dan, Phil nearly sloshed a bit of the drink out. _Smooth_.

Dan sent him an unimpressed look, but Phil could see the humor dancing in his eyes. “I’m capable of being early, Philip.”

“Really?” Phil cocked an eyebrow. “Because I’ve never seen it.”

“Shut up,” Dan swatted his arm, twisting around a bit in the booth so he could look at Phil properly. Dan’s leg came up to rest on the booth between them, his ankle tucking under his opposite knee so that his shin was pressing against Phil’s thigh. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“No, but I’d like to.”

Phil’s face flamed up, heat burning his cheeks when he realized what he’d just said. _Shit_ , something about being around Dan made Phil confess all of his desires — even the ones he probably shouldn’t tell Dan about. The only salvation was the fact that Dan’s cheeks turned equally red, and his gaze suddenly dropped to his knee, which nudged Phil’s hip softly.

Phil thought he heard Dan mumble _same_ under his breath, but he wasn’t sure. He was never sure of anything when it came to Dan.

Except for the minor detail that Phil was very, very sure he was head over heels for this boy.

“So,” Phil cleared his throat, trying to restore some sense of normality to their conversation. “I thought you said Adeline was joining us?”

“She is. Um,” Dan’s eyes flitted to his phone, which was resting face up on the table. “Her train was delayed, actually. That’s part of why I’m early. I realized she was going to be late like fifteen minutes ago and I figured you were probably on your way, so I just told her to drop her bag off at my place and come down and meet us.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have minded waiting if you wanted to pick her up,” Phil insisted.

“No!” Dan almost shouted, before widening his eyes bashfully at Phil. “I — she’s a big girl. She’s capable of getting a cab from the train station to my flat and walking one block. It’s fine.”

Phil took another sip of his drink. “Okay, then. I’m excited to meet her, but I’m not heartbroken to get a little bit of time alone with you.”

Dan’s eyes widened, and for a moment Phil was worried that he’d said the wrong thing, that he’d finally found the imaginary line between them and leaped over it. But his worries were assuaged when Dan let out a tiny whine before collapsing forward, his forehead falling onto Phil’s shoulder. Trying his best not to disturb Dan, to not make him feel like he needed to move, Phil twisted his head a bit so he could look at Dan. From what Phil could see of his face, Dan was smiling bashfully, his dimples and red patch on full display.

This time, Phil was confident that he heard Dan mumble _me either_ — he could feel the vibrations of Dan’s voice against his arm. Phil could get used to having Dan’s head on his shoulder, maybe even tucked in more securely, his breath wafting over Phil’s neck instead of his arm. Dan rested there for a moment, before leaning back up. The red spot on his cheek had subsided some, but the dimples were still prominent. Phil was glad for that, he hadn’t seen those dimples nearly enough lately.

“So, um,” Phil fumbled, still not quite composed after having Dan _so close_. “How late is Adaline?”

Dan sat up a hair straighter, as if the reminder of his _sister_ had pulled him out of something. The way his leg was pushed against Phil’s, and how close his drink was to Phil’s, still left Dan very much in Phil’s personal space, though.

“She’ll be here within the half hour, she wasn’t delayed that much.” Dan took a long drink out of his glass, and the topic of his sister seemed to melt away. “So,” Dan poked Phil in the ribcage, “Tell me about your day.”

Shrugging, Phil took another sip of the fruity concoction. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he liked it a lot. Dan normally drank bitter things — _who the heck drinks a triple espresso with only one sugar?_ — but Phil prefered his drinks sweet. He was glad that Dan hadn’t ordered him whatever dark liquid was in his own short, round glass.

“It wasn’t particularly exciting, I worked most of it.” Phil couldn’t keep the frustrated edge out of his voice. He wasn’t quite over how much he’d clashed with the show’s producers today — it was rare, so Phil didn’t feel particularly equipped to deal with creative differences.

Dan looked unconvinced, his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. “Your work is exciting though,” he pouted. “What did you do?”

“Not Fridays,” Phil grimaced. “I always have loads of meetings,” he explained. “I have my weekly radio show planning meetings with the BBC today, which was…” Phil rolled his eyes and took sip of the drink as he searched for the right word. “Stressful.”

Dan’s glass — and the fingers wrapped tightly around it — pushed against Phil’s arm as Dan’s other arm slid across the table, his head coming to rest in the palm of his hand, his eyes staring widely up at Phil. “Why’s that?”

“Just, you know,” Phil waved vaguely, “Pressure from the bosses about things.”

Dan groaned, straightening up a bit so that he could take a sip of his drink. “I know what you mean. What are they giving you pressure about?” His eyes narrowed, a smile threatening to break out on his mock-angry face. “Do I need to go kick someone’s ass?”

“No, no,” Phil laughed, blushing a bit at Dan’s overprotective attitude, even if he was joking. Phil busied himself with another drink while he figured out what he wanted to say to Dan. “It’s just, you know, publicity type stuff?” His voice ended like it was a question, and Phil lowkey hated himself for that. He had no reason to feel weird talking to Dan about fame-related things, which usually made him feel insufferably pretentious. But if there was anyone in Phil’s life who would truly _get it_ , it was Dan.

Dan stared back at him with raised eyebrows — not disbelieving, just curious — prompting Phil to continue. “I have the radio show, right?”

“Yes, which I finally got the chance to listen to and it’s _wonderful_ ,” Dan interjected with a playful smile. “I think your voice was _made_ for radio, it’s hot. Although, the fact that you livestream your face doesn’t hurt either.”

_What in the fucking —_

Phil took a large gulp of his drink, unsure of what the _hell_ Dan was getting at. Sure, Dan was flirty sometimes, but he seemed far more forward than usual today. Phil glanced at Dan’s drink, which was nearly empty. Was it possible that Dan was tipsy already? Tipsy Dan _had_ been flitier than usual, after all. But Phil didn’t remember Dan being a light-weight. Surely three quarters of a drink wouldn’t push Dan to the point it had taken three drinks to get him to last time, right?

Maybe Dan had drank something else sometime before Phil had arrived?

“I — uh, thanks,” Phil stuttered, very flustered, completely incapable of saying anything more intelligent.

“So what about it?” Dan prompted, knocking the knuckles of his fingers against Phil’s when Phil didn’t carry on with his story.

“We’re having a bit of a… creative difference,” Phil offered in way of explanation. He didn’t want to bore Dan with the details of his story. Dan _looked_ interested now, but Phil wasn’t sure if Dan genuinely wanted to know every intricacy of Phil’s life (like the way Phil wanted to know the intricacies of Dan’s).

Dan shook his head, bringing the amber liquid to his lips for another swallow. “That’s the fucking worst. What happened?”

Apparently, Phil had underestimated Dan’s interest. The question didn’t sound insincere. It sounded like Dan actually wanted to know about Phil’s problem, that Dan actually wanted to support Phil.

“They’re pushing for me to do a special show with a guest host — preferably someone who knows more about music than me — so that they can, quote, _draw in a new listener demographic_ or something.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Dan cocked his head. “So you’re against this idea…?”

“A little,” Phil confirmed with a shrug and another drink. “I don’t want to see disingenuine — and maybe more importantly, I don’t want to make an ass of out myself on live air by being awkward because I barely know my co-host.”

Dan hummed as he drank the last swallow of his drink. “Would you feel differently if it _was_ someone you knew?” he contemplated.

“I guess,” Phil shrugged. “It would at least feel less fake, and I’d probably feel less uncomfortable.”

Dan waved his hand in a gesture that seemed to say _so what?_ “What’s the hold up, then?”

“I’m a vloggy youtuber, it’s not like I really have any work connections I can try to force into collabing on me with this.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Dan looked at Phil blankly, a slightly annoyed tint to his eye.

“What?” Phil asked, confused, after a few beats.

In explanation, Dan circled his hand around his face wildly, looking at Phil like he was an idiot.

“You’re going to have to be more explicit, Daniel.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Gee, if only one of your non-work friends just happened to be in the music industry,” he said, resting his chin primly in the palm of his hand.

It took Phil a second, but he finally caught on. “Oh — _oohhh_! Would you — like — do you think you’d want to —”

Dan stared back with raised eyebrows and an expecting expression. “Yeah, dumbshit,” he said, finally. “I mean, I highly doubt that radio is my undiscovered talent, but I’d try it for you.”

“You’d — for me —?” Phil stuttered ineloquently.

“Of course, you spoon. I’d love first row tickets to _AmazingPhil_ , even if that means embarrassing myself on live radio.”

“I’d feel bad,” Phil waffled. “It’s a huge professional favor, and I’d want to give _something_ back. I’m absolutely rubbish at all things music, though, so it’s not like I could repay you at _all_.”

“Trust me, Phil, you do plenty for me. Both personally and professionally. If anything, I owe _you_ a favor.”

Phil blinked blankly at Dan. _What the fuck does that mean?_ Phil wracked his brain, trying to think of a single time where _anything_ he had done had even remotely helped Dan _professionally_.

Phil was so concentrated on trying to figure out what Dan was implying that he almost forgot to respond.

“Um, if you’re serious,” Phil spun his glass awkwardly in his hands, “I’ll speak to them. They seemed pretty open about _who_ I had on the show.”

With the hand that wasn’t cupped around his short glass, Dan reached up and ruffled Phil’s hair. “Of course I’m serious, anything to help you silly goose. Talk to them, and let me know what they say.”

“Thanks, Dan!” Phil smiled back, suddenly far more excited about the prospect of a guest-host than he had been that morning. “So how was your day?” Phil asked.

“Uneventful,” Dan shrugged. “I slept in, which felt _great_ , and then I was surprisingly social for a bit, before managing to work some this afternoon.

The conversation that Phil had overheard between Dan and Louise had made it sound like Dan had big breakfast plans — plans that were big enough to require some sort of debriefing with Louise. But if Dan slept in before _socializing_ , did that mean breakfast — whatever that was supposed to be — didn’t happen?

“I feel like I’m actually making progress on this album.” Dan continued, obvious to Phil’s confusion. He was smiling, though,, and Phil could see the passion building as he started talking about his music. “When Louise set a deadline of _half the album_ before Germany, I thought she was insane. But at this rate, I think I’ll be okay.”

Phil managed to control his surprise at Dan’s lack of mentioning anything more exciting, but only just. Was work _only_ thing Dan had done today — or was that all that he was willing to share with Phil? Phil wasn’t sure if Dan’s dramatic sounding breakfast plans potentially falling through was a good thing or not.

Phil sighed, trying to shake off his confused thoughts, and turned to his drink again, quickly finishing it. When he’d regained his composure, he turned back to Dan, “So you actually went outside and socialized today?”

“Meh, nothing big,” Dan said indifferently — he certainly didn’t make it sound like whatever social activity he’d done was noteworthy enough to mention. “I knew we were meeting for drinks and Adaline was coming, so I wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to hole up in my house and work.”

There was no way Phil could continue pushing about Dan’s morning — not after Dan had turned the subject to work a _second_ time. At least not without it being painfully obvious that Phil was fishing for details. He took Dan’s lead and switched topics to Dan’s music, genuinely curious about how his work was going.

“Were you writing again today?” Phil asked, trying to show that he was just as interested in Dan’s work as Dan was in his.

“Yeah, the song I was working on the other night, you know, the one from skype? I think it’s coming together. Up until today I just had snippets of lyrics but I’m pretty sure I made it into something coherent, something that _flows_ and actually matches the melody.”

“That’s awesome, Dan!” Phil beamed, proud of Dan’s accomplishment. “How are you feeling about the album so far?”

“Amazing, actually.” Dan’s fingers tapped excitedly against his empty glass. “It’s not what I set out to do, but I’m somehow actually writing a concept album.”

“Wow! What’s the concept?” Phil blurted out before he realized that Dan might not want to — or might not be _able_ to answer that. “Or is that top secret?” he added, giving Dan an easy way out of the question.

“It not top secret, _per say_ ,” Dan started before his attention suddenly snapped away from Phil, turning towards his phone. Confused, Phil’s eyebrows shot up, his gaze following Dan’s.

 **Adaline:** _did I miss you and loverboy at home bc i’m here and i don’t see you_

If Adaline was here, and she knew she was meeting Dan _and_ Phil — which presumably she did — loverboy had to refer to Phil… right? The rational part of Phil’s brain tried, _really tried_ , to keep his hopes in check, to not think _too_ wishfully, but the part of Phil that was completely infatuated with Dan was positively _screaming._

With a message like that staring Phil in the face, it was almost _impossible_ not to get his hopes up.

Quickly, Phil averted his gaze. He may not know _what_ that message meant, but he did know that he was definitely not meant to see it. Fortunately for him, Dan was too preoccupied by the text and popping his head over the back of their booth, peeking back towards the door, to realize that Phil had seen it.

Phil ducked around their booth as well, looking towards the entrance and trying to who Dan was looking for. A younger girl was standing near the entrance, her eyes scanning through the crowd.

Dan’s knee nudged insistently against Phil a few times. “Budge over and let me out, will you?” Dan asked.

Phil nodded numbly, not fully processing anything that was happening, his attention still focused on _loverboy_. Eyes and mind glazed over, Phil slid out of the booth, letting Dan slip out behind him. Phil watched as Dan strode over to the door and enthusiastically enveloped the young brunette in his arms. When Dan leaned out of the embrace, he didn’t pull all the way back, instead wrapping his arm around her shoulders and guiding her over to the table.

“I missed you, you know,” Phil heard Dan say as they came within earshot.

“It’s been like a month, Dan,” the girl responded, elbowing Dan in the ribs.

Dan shrugged, not looking embarrassed at being called out on his feelings. It was cute, seeing Dan so happy to see his sister. It reminded Phil of how he felt when he saw his brother after a long separation. Phil knew that Dan hadn’t been as close with Adaline as Phil had been with Martyn while they were growing up, but he also knew that Dan was determined to build a better relationship with his sister now that she was older. It looked like he was doing a good job.

Dan led her to the other side of the booth before hovering at the table’s end between them.

“Yeah, well,” Dan sighed, rocking back and forth on his feet, “It’s been a long month.”

“So it would seem.” Dan’s sister, Adaline’s, eyes flickered between their empty glasses, and Phil wondered if she was thinking about the fact that they had both already been on the same side of the table when she arrived. Lord knows it was on Phil’s mind.

With a look of intent, Adaline’s attention switched to Phil, her eyes quickly flickering back to Dan with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, right, sorry. I’m being rude,” Dan apologized, nervously arranging the mop of curls on his head. “Phil, meet my sister, Adaline. Addie, this is my — um, Phil.”

The tips of Dan’s ears turned red, a matching spot coloring his cheek. A wide, cheeky smirk took over Adaline’s face. It was a smirk he’d seen before; Dan had flashed him that same expression countless times.

 _My what?_ Phil wondered, his cheeks flushing to match Dan’s. Surely Dan wouldn’t have cut himself off from saying _friend_. So what _had_ he been about to say?

“Good to meet you, Phil,” Adaline was saying. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The red spot on Dan’s cheek deepened, and Phil could feel his own cheeks heating up to match it. “I — yeah. I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

“Awww, are you bragging about me, big brother?” Adaline teased.

“Fuck off, I can’t help talking about people I care about, okay?” Dan took a small step back from the table.

 _Shit,_ the both of them really needed to stop saying things that made Phil’s heart skip. At this point, he wasn’t sure if there was blood left anywhere in his body other than his face.

“So,” Dan broke the silence in what he probably hoped was a smooth interruption (it wasn’t). “Who wants what to drink?”

Phil pointed to his glass. “I liked whatever this was.”

“Okay, another Dark ‘n Stormy.” Dan snapped his fingers, making a lame finger gun at Phil. “Sis?”

“Whatever you’re having?” She suggested tentatively, her order coming out more like a question than a request.

“Right—” Another awkward finger gun. “I’ll be back in a moment, lads. Behave.”

Phil felt an internal moment of panic at being left completely alone with Dan’s sister after such a brief introduction. Apparently, his wariness wasn’t unfounded.

“So you’re Phil?” Adaline questioned the moment Dan was out of earshot, an impish look on her face.

“Y-yes?” Phil stuttered back insecurely, spinning his empty glass in his hand for lack of something better to do. Everything Phil knew about Dan was telling him not to trust the mischievous expression Adaline was fixing him with.

“Dan somehow forgot to mention that his lovely new friend Phil from the coffee shop was _AmazingPhil_.” A wide smirk took over Adaline’s face — a smirk Phil had seen before, on Dan.

Phil wasn’t sure just how worried he should be about the fact that Dan’s sister apparently knew who he was. Phil had told Dan countless things he had no desire for his viewers to know, and he had no idea how much of that information Dan had shared with his sister. Phil wholeheartedly trusted Dan, and recognized that if Adaline came from the same family, she was probably trustworthy too. But the fact remained that he didn’t _know_ her. “I —”

He had no idea what to say.

“It’s fine, I saw through twitter beforehand, so it’s not like it’s a surprise. Don’t worry, I’m not a crazy fan or anything.” Adaline was much more nonchalant than Dan had been when he’d found out about Phil’s channel. Did that mean Adaline didn’t care, or had she just been exposed enough that it just wasn’t _shocking_ anymore?

“Oh… have you, like, watched my videos?” Phil fished, trying to get a read on how potentially dangerous this situation might be.

“A few. I found your channel through PJ’s a few months ago and happened to see a few. Imagine my surprise when I found out you were the guy that was suddenly tweeting at my brother.”

“Er — yeah. Dan about had a heart attack when he found out,” Phil chuckled.

“I know,” Adaline laughed mercilessly at her brother. “He called me up in a fit the next day.”

“What a nerd,” Phil said with a roll of his eyes and a soft chuckle. He was pretty sure that his fondness for Dan was seeping into his voice, but he was well past the point in their friendship where he had any hopes of controlling it.

Luckily, Dan saved Phil from the embarrassment of Adaline potentially calling him out on his soft spot for Dan by Dan coming back, precariously balancing three drinks in his hands. He sat the fruity drink in front of Phil, pushed something clear and bubbly towards Adaline, and slid a half-full cup of amber liquid back towards his original seat.

“Let me in, Philly,” Dan smiled, tapping much more rapidly at Phil’s shoulder than was necessary.

“I’m moving, I’m moving!” Phil insisted. “You impatient little brat,” he added under his breath.

Unfortunately, his jab seemed to be heard by everyone at the table. Dan smacked him playfully upside the head.

“Oh look, he knows you already,” Adaline teased.

“Fuck off, Addie,” Dan said as he slid across the bench, stopping halfway to the wall so that he was still very much in Phil’s space when Phil sat back down. Absolutely _nothing_ Dan and Phil did seemed to escape Adaline’s notice; her gaze was concentrated on the space — or rather, lack thereof — between them. Phil shifted nervously under Adaline’s scrutiny. He wasn’t sure what to make of how closely she was watching them.

“I thought I asked for the same thing as you?” Adaline questioned, letting her attention drift from the minute distance between them to just Dan.

“Yeah, but I’m drinking Jameson neat and I figured one of us needed to keep their head on straight,” Dan answered with a pointed look.

“Fine, fine,” she grumbled back, taking a sip of whatever Dan had passed her.

“Don’t worry, loser,” Dan quipped. “It still has alcohol in it. Plus, I figured you might like that better, seeing as you’re like Phil here and don’t care for bitter drinks.”

“Right, I’m sure giving me a weaker drink was a totally selfless, caring choice.” Adaline looked skeptically at Dan, who anxiously passed his glass back and forth between his hands.

Phil took pity on Dan and decided to change the topic, taking the focus off him for a moment. “So, what are you doing in London?” he turned with a smile to Adaline.

“Err…” Adaline mumbled shiftily, her eyes darting to Dan.

“We’re doing a uni tour tomorrow,” Dan supplied. Really smoothly.

“That’s awesome! Which uni?” Phil knew that Adaline was important to Dan and he wanted to show that he was interested, that he could get along with Dan’s family.

“Imperial,” Dan said at the same time that Adaline answered, “Middlesex.”

“Um…” Phil uncertainly looked between the two of them. Had one of them gotten confused? Did they suck at communicating? What the hell was happening here?

“We’re touring two!” Dan said abruptly, looking a bit like a deer caught in headlights. “Middlesex in the morning and Imperial in the afternoon!”

Adaline nodded along quickly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m, um, trying to decide which I like more!” Something about the way Adaline said it sounded fake, like she’d decided that on the spot. But why?

Regardless, Phil decided it was probably best to drop that conversation, since it seemed to have sparked a weird vibe between the siblings. “I’m going to run to the loo,” Phil said, hoping that the tension would dissipate before he got back, and that maybe, just maybe, he could have a moment to think rationally without Dan touching him and causing Phil’s thoughts to scramble.

Dan tugged on Phil’s sleeve, catching his attention. “Will you get me a water while you’re up, Philly?”

“No problem. Adaline?”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Be right back,” Phil grinned before he turned away.

He only got a few feet from the table before he froze, realizing that he had no idea _where_ the loo was here. He glanced around, searching the walls for a sign.

“Adaline!” Phil heard Dan hiss. “Since when are you interested in bloody Middlesex?”

“I’m not!” she whispered back. “I panicked and said the first school that came to mind!”

Phil spotted the bathroom sign and slinked away, hoping to not draw any attention to how close he still was to the table.

So he’d been right — there had been some weirdness when they were talking about why Adaline was in London.

But if it wasn’t for touring a uni, what _was_ she here for?

**************************

By the fourth drink, Phil could feel the rum loosening his tongue — something he should probably be concerned about, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. In his tipsy state, he turned to Dan and finally asked a question that had been plaguing him since yesterday.

“So, how was breakfast this morning?” Phil drawled, looking curiously at Dan.

Okay, it wasn’t the _exact_ question he’d wanted to ask, but it would hopefully still get him the answer he was seeking.

It wasn’t until Dan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously that Phil remembered that he wasn’t supposed to know about breakfast. All Dan had said was that he’d “socialized” this morning.

“I didn’t realize I’d told you I had breakfast plans,” Dan said in a tone that made it clear he _definitely_ knew he hadn’t told Phil about his plans.

_Well, fuck._

“I — um, so.” Out of the corner of his eye, Phil could see Adaline’s eyes bouncing back and forth, back and forth between him and Dan. Phil scrambled for a moment, trying to find _something_ he could say to cover his arse. But his tipsy mind couldn’t land on a good excuse before his tipsy tongue took over. “Look, cards on the table. I might have overheard you and Louise talking yesterday.”

Phil wasn’t sure what he was expecting from Dan — maybe him to be angry that Phil had been eavesdropping, maybe a chiding remark. He definitely wasn’t expecting Dan’s eyes to widen all the way and a look of panic to cross his face. But that’s what he got.

“The whole conversation?” Dan looked well worried about _something_.

 _Oh, you know, just the part where Louise was_ demanding  _to meet some guy in your life and you wouldn’t let her into the coffee shop. And the small part where you both were freaking out about whatever the hell your breakfast plans are. But no, no..._

“No, why?” Phil said instead. If the look on Dan’s face was anything to go by, Phil should _definitely_ not confess to how much he’d overheard. Which was… interesting, given the content of it.

A wave of tension appeared to wash out of Dan’s body, his shoulders relaxing and his fingers unclenching from his glass. “N-no reason.”

Phil didn’t believe that for a moment. He’d let it slide though, for now at least.

“Breakfast didn’t happen though,” Dan said cryptically, not elaborating on  _why_ breakfast didn’t happen or _what_ breakfast was supposed to have been.

Adaline, for her part, was starting at Dan just as studiously as Phil was, which led Phil to believe that not only was breakfast something Adaline knew about, but he was right in his suspicions that it was _supposed_ to have been something.

Phil knew he probably shouldn’t, but he decided to push his luck. “Oh, why not?” He hoped he sounded nonchalant, and not like he had an underlying motive for trying to figure out more information.

Dan breathed out a long sigh and knocked back half of his drink.

For a moment, Phil was worried that Dan wasn’t going to answer — or worse, that Dan was going to tell Phil to _fuck off_ and that Phil _shouldn’t be pestering him with questions about something he’d overheard_.

Dan pleasantly surprised Phil, though, when he confessed the truth. “Well, the whole point of breakfast was to dump Isabella.” His voice was quiet, his words slightly slurred, and his eyes concentrated on his glass, but the meaning of what Dan had said rang loud and clear.

Breaking up with Isabella. As in, Dan making himself _single_ and _available_. But —

Shit. Dan _hadn’t_ gone to breakfast. Phil latched onto that fact, trying to make his brain wrap around what _that_ meant — that Dan probably _hadn’t_ gone through with his plans to break up with her.

Why? _Why_ was the world being so cruel to Phil?

“Did you change your mind, then?” Phil asked, aiming to maintain his casual demeanor, but there was a wobble to his voice that was surely betraying his true feelings: panic and disappointment.

“What?” Dan’s head snapped up from his glass, looking at Phil in alarm. “No!” he corrected hastily. “I ended up breaking up with her last night.”

_Oh._

_Oh my god._

A million emotions rushed through Phil, and he wasn’t sure which one he should be paying the most attention to. He was relieved, so fucking _relieved_  that Dan was single. That Isabella was out of the picture. He was worried, worried that Dan was upset or heartbroken about it — or worse, that there might have been some truth to the picture Phil saw on twitter last night.

But above it all, Phil felt a wave a clarity. If Dan had broken up with Isabella _last night_ , that casted his actions in the last twenty four hours into a whole new light — Dan giving Phil his phone number seemingly out of the blue, Dan being _much_ more forward tonight, Dan’s thigh currently pressing into Phil’s.

Were all of those things connected to the fact that Dan was now _single_?

Dan’s eyes bored into Phil’s, looking like they were trying to stare into his soul, like they were trying to communicate _something_.

Looking like they were confirming everything that Phil was thinking.

Against his better judgment, Phil’s heart _soared_. He should wait until he’d heard verbal confirmation from Dan, he should wait until Dan was single for more than a mere day.

He should _wait_.

But he couldn’t.

“Mum said to pass on her congratulations, by the way,” Adaline said with a smirk. The tension — the _sexual_ tension, Phil was pretty sure — broke between Dan and Phil as they both whipped their heads around to face Adaline. From the surprised look on Dan’s face, Phil wagered Dan had forgotten that Adaline was there just as much as Phil had.

Dan shook his head, seemingly pulling himself out of whatever thoughts he was having. “Mum is congratulating me for getting cheated on?” He scoffed, sounding somehow both bitter and humored.

“So it’s true, then?” Adaline asked softly, the smile draining from her face.

Dan’s gaze fell and he fiddled with his napkin. “Yeah, it’s true.” There was no emotion left, he just sounded defeated.

“I’m sorry, bear. That sucks,” Adaline murmured, rubbing her hand against his forearm.

“It’s fine,” Dan said with a forced smile, fake positivity in his voice. His efforts to seem fine about _that_ aspect of it were painfully transparent. “I was going to end it anyway. That just made it — you know, easier to do.”

“Still,” Phil chimed in, “That sucks. I’m sorry it had to end like that.”

“I mean, yeah, me too.” Dan took another long sip of his drink, almost draining it. “But, hey, the outcome is the same, right? And it made me feel justified in doing it on Valentine’s Day, so at least there’s that.”

“Oh god, how far did you get in your date before things went awry?” Phil asked, horrified.

“Ugh,” Dan groaned. “All the way to the end. I actually DMed you right after I left her apartment.”

“Uh!” Adaline interjected indignantly. “Excuse me, did you really DM him before calling me back, Daniel?”

The ashamed look on Dan’s face was enough of an answer. “Um, maybe. It’s not like it took long!” he defended.

“Excuse you,” Adaline crossed her arms defiantly, but in her tipsy state, she misestimated her movements and ended up smacking herself lightly in the shoulder, which seriously reduced the effectiveness of the action. “I”ll have you know that you’d given me a right scare after demanding I call you with a fake emergency and then ignoring my calls for nearly an hour.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Phil interrupted before Dan could further defend himself. “Did you really make your sister call you with a fake emergency so you could leave? Are you _fourteen_?”

“See!” Adaline cheered too loudly. “Phil agrees with me, you were being a baby.”

“Look,” Dan tried to explain, his hands waving around a little more wildly than normal. “You guys don’t know Izzy like I do. She doesn’t take very kindly to having her… sexual advances turned down—” _Oh god,_ Phil thought, _the alcohol had clearly loosened Dan’s tongue as well_. “— and by that point I’d used up every excuse in the book.”

“Oh,” Adaline’s brows furrowed. “Was she just really not taking no for an answer last night?”

“Er, not quite,” Dan mumbled sketchily.

“Dish. What are you getting at?” Adaline demanded, banging her hands noisily on the table in earnest.

Phil was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear this. Whatever details of his sex life that Tispy Dan decided were appropriate to share were probably things that would only make Phil feel like shit. Briefly, Phil considered excusing himself to the bar to buy another round, or maybe even to go to the loo for the third time that night. Anything to avoid having to listen to Dan talk about sex with Isabella.

But Dan answered before Phil could do any of those things.

“More like over the past _month_. I’ve kind of been avoiding _that_ for a while now.”

“I’m sorry, you wh-what?” Adaline choked a little on the liquid she was trying to swallow.

A month. Dan had been avoiding having sex with Isabella for a _month_. Out of all the things Dan could have said about his sex life, that had to be the most surprising one. He was dating a _model_ for god’s sake, why hadn’t he wanted to have sex with her for a _month?_

Nevertheless, Phil was glad. He had no claim to Dan, but knowing that he hadn’t been sleeping with Isabella for a while now… well, it was a relief.

“It’s not that big of a deal, okay.” Dan gave her a sharp look. “It just… hasn’t felt _right_ —” His eyes flickered over to Phil, lingering for a moment, before returning to Adaline. “—for a while now. So I, you know, _haven’t_.”

 _Shit._ Phil froze, staring at Dan long after Dan had returned his attention to Adaline. The way he looked at Phil, the heat that was in his eyes, made Phil feel like maybe _he_ was the reason Dan didn’t feel right sleeping with Isabella.

“Oh my god,” Adaline gasped. “I —”

“Drop it, Addie,” Dan said tersely. “Enough about the demise of my shitty relationship.” His voiced lightened up some, turning almost teasing. “Now tell us about this date that you may or may not have had tonight that you were _so_ easily persuaded to bail on.”

Well that _certainly_ made it sound like whatever Adaline was in London for was because Dan had asked her to be. That explained why they were so weird about the uni tour thing, at least. It was odd that they felt the need to lie about why Adaline was there to Phil, but his alcohol hazed mind couldn’t come up with any possible explanations for it.

And clearly, Dan was too far gone to keep up pretenses about why Adaline was here.

“I just wasn’t _that_ interested in the bloke, that’s all.”

“You not have a great Valentine’s Day either, then?” Dan asked.

“Huh?” Adaline looked perplexed for a moment before recognition dawned on her face. “Oh, no. Not that. Um, don’t judge me and go all big-brother.”

Dan raised his eyebrows expectantly. Phil had flashes of what Dan might be like in full big-brother mode, and hoped that he might get to see a glimpse of it.

“The bloke from last night was good. We’re going out Sunday. Tonight was going to be a, uh, different guy.”

“Adaline!” Dan admonished. “Are you really dating around? I thought we’d already talked about the dangers of sleeping with more than one person at a time! What if one of them has something? You need to be a bit more careful!”

Evidently Phil was getting to see big-brother Dan after all. He found it funny that they were apparently _so_ open about sex, but yet Dan was still being protective.

“I’m being safe! Chill, bro.” Adaline chugged the rest of her drink. “Oh looky there, I’m all out of beverage. Dan?”

“You’re a piece of work,” he mumbled to Adaline, before swallowing the rest of his own drink. “I get us another round then, eh?” Dan poked Phil again, forcing him to let Dan out. Dan poked lower than he had last time, missing his ribs and hitting the soft, ticklish bit of Phil’s stomach.

On instinct, Phil spun towards Dan, catching Dan’s hand in his own, a giggle tumbling out of his lips. “Dan!”

“Oh dear, is Philly ticklish?” Dan’s other hand came around, poking Phil in the same spot, causing him to squirm. Phil’s free hand flew out, snagging Dan’s other hand. “Oh dear, he is!”

Dan wrestled with Phil a little, trying to wiggle his hands free so that he could poke Phil again. He succeeded in loosening Phil’s grasp enough that he was able to launch forward and poke Phil again, his chest crashing into Phil’s arm. Phil folded in on himself, trying to protect his sides from Dan’s attack, causing Dan’s chest to slip from Phil’s arm to his back.

“I give, I give!” Phil managed to say through his giggles.

“You’re no fun,” Dan said, the laughter in his voice contradicting his words. The hand he’d broken free from Phil’s wrapped around the front of Phil’s waist, pulling him into a hug. Dan rocked him back and forth lightly. “You’re silly, you spoon.”

Phil leaned back into Dan, feeling so _warm_ in Dan’s arms, but was startled by an obnoxiously fake coughing attack from Adaline.

“I’m still here boys. And parched.”

Dan’s face heated up. “Sorry, sis. I’ll be right back.”

Phil started to slide out of the booth to let Dan out, but Dan’s grip on his hips tightened, holding him firmly in place. For a moment, Phil was baffled at what Dan was trying to do, unable to make sense of how the heck Dan was planning to get out of the booth if Phil didn’t _move_.

But then, it became _very, very clear_ how Dan was planning to get up.

Still pressing Phil into the booth, Dan’s opposite leg swung across Phil, and, suddenly, Dan was straddling him.

Time froze.

Phil’s vision, which had previously been slightly blurred from the alcohol, focused sharply on Dan. Dan, who was properly in Phil’s lap, his head towering above Phil’s, his eyes gazing down at him. Phil stared back up, forgetting that the rest of the world still existed. Instinctively, Phil’s eyes dropped down to Dan’s lips, and he thought about it. He thought about saying _fuck it_ , about closing the distance between them and pressing his lips to Dan’s. When Phil dragged his eyes back up Dan’s, he found that they were looking downward — like Dan was looking at _Phil’s_ lips, like Dan was thinking about the _same things_.

“Fucking hell, Dan,” Adaline cried, sounding outraged. Her voice broke the trance between them, pulling Dan and Phil out of their own little world and back into the crowded, noisy bar.

“Right, sorry,” Dan murmured, far too quietly for Adaline to hear. His eyes searched Phil’s face one last time before he gave Phil’s hips a quick squeeze and climbed off his lap, abruptly heading for the bar.

Phil shifted in his seat. He had just enough inhibitions left to be embarrassed to face Adaline after that _blatant_ display of flirting.

“So,” Adaline pounced on Phil the moment Dan was out of earshot.

“So…” Phil trailed off, unsure of why Adaline was looking so eager — and hesitant to find out.

Adaline crossed her arms, leaning forward on the table to inspect Phil. “You’re cuter than he normally goes for,” she said with a waggle of her eyebrows and a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

Phil just about spat the ice cube he was chewing on out of his mouth. _I’m what now?_ He tried to make his brain focus and think through all of the rum that was currently clouding his sense of rationality.

Did she mean that Phil was cuter than the girls Dan had brought home in the past? Because last time Phil checked, he hardly thought he compared to a damn _supermodel_. But, also, it was weird to compare the attractiveness of guys and girls, right? Did that mean — ?

Did that mean Dan had brought home _guys_ before?

“Sorry?” Phil eventually spat out unintelligently. He was completely lost for more complex thoughts.

Adaline snickered — she knew _exactly_ what she was doing to Phil. She clearly had information about Dan, his dating life, his history with _boys_ that Phil didn’t know. And she was taking full advantage of her position of power.

Goddamn, her and Dan were too much alike.

“When it comes to guys, I mean. They’re normally, well, less cute. Don’t tell him I told you that though.” She winked furtively at him. “I doubt he’d take kindly to me drunkenly spilling his secrets. That’s definitely not why he invited me here.”

Phil’s jaw dropped. He wasn’t completely sure what to make of what Adaline was saying, but his heart was already skipping a beat, and his stomach was turning over. What Adaline had just said — it made it sound like Dan had _definitely_ dated boys before.

“Oops!” Adaline covered her mouth dramatically, her voice _dripping_ with feigned innocence. “Gee, whiz, did you not know that Dan’s bi?”

Phil’s heart had skipped a few beats before, but now it was downright _pounding_. The shock of what Adaline was implying — basically _saying_ , at this point — was slowly starting to sink in.

So Dan had. Dan had _definitely_ dated boys before — something Adaline had _very intentionally_ just told him. That had to mean something for Phil, right? All of the things Phil had thought might be flirting, the way Dan had skirted around Isabella… That must mean _something_ , then, right?

“I, um, no. Obviously,” Phil said when he was able to muddle through his drunken shock. He tried to organize his thoughts, tried to swallow his utter _shock_ at having it confirmed that Dan was _single_ , that Dan liked _boys_ , to ask if all of that together meant that Dan liked _him_. “What _did_ Dan invite you here for, then?”

Phil had to resist smacking himself in the forehead. That was an odd question to ask, given everything Phil had just learned, but okay.

To his surprise, Adaline _cackled_. “Actually, he wanted a babysitter.”

Phil rubbed his hands down his face, trying to get the drunk part of his brain to _calm down_ so he could fucking _process_ whatever the heck this was. What grown adult _wanted_ a babysitter, and _why_? “Isn’t he, like, twenty three?”

Again, the wrong question to ask. Phil mentally kicked himself in the arse. Why was he completely botching this _one moment_ he had with Drunk Adaline to learn more about Dan’s life?

“And asking to be babysat by an eighteen year old?” Adaline chucked. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Phil’s brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of that. Adaline seemed to find the situation as funny as Phil did. “Uh, why?”

Well, it lacked sophistication, but at least he was finally asking a worthwhile question.

“Apparently he didn’t want to drunkenly drag you back to his place to fuck.”

_What in the —_

If Phil was _shocked_ by everything Adaline had said so far, he was completely _floored_ by that.

A hot rush of arousal shot through Phil at the very _mention_ of that, and he forced himself to shake it away as best as he could. _Those_ weren’t thoughts he should let his mind drift to while he was sitting across from Dan’s _sister_.

Okay, fine, Adaline had said that Dan liked guys — that was great. And she’d implied that Dan liked _Phil_ , which, okay, fantastic. But to explicitly say that Dan wanted to _fuck_ Phil — that was a whole new level that Phil wasn’t prepared to hear.

He did his best to swallow his shock and respond to Adaline. “I — he what?”

Adaline narrowed her eyes, evaluating Phil, the slight upward turn of her lips a pale ghost of the raucous smirk it had been a moment before. She nodded slowly. “Listen up, though.” Her voice was sharp this time.

Phil’s eyes widened at the fast change in her attitude. “What?” So far, Adaline had been nothing but chipper and easy-going, so the quick shift to reprimanding took Phil by surprise.

“That kid,” she nodded to the bar where Dan was waiting in line for the bartender, “I’m not sure who _that_ kid is.”

Phil opened his mouth to defend Dan. Dan was _so_ insistent on getting to know his younger sister better, and hearing her say that she didn’t _know_ Dan made Phil want to launch into a diatribe about how _hard_ Dan was trying. But Adaline cut Phil off before he could start.

“I know _Dan_ , well,” Adaline rushed on to say. “And I like this new version of him,” she clarified, sensing Phil’s desire to stand up for Dan. “But I’ve _never_ seen him like this before.”

Phil cocked his head, trying to make sense of what Adaline was saying. The Dan that was here tonight didn’t seem _that_ different from the Dan that Phil was used to. Sure, _this_ Dan was a bit more forward, a bit more _flirty_ than the Dan that Phil had previously gotten to know, but that could be easily accounted for by the fact that _this_ Dan was single. That didn’t seem to explain why Adaline found the boy at the bar nearly unrecognizable.

“What do you mean _this kid_?” Phil forced out, hoping to figure out what the _heck_ Adaline meant.

“The guy who doesn’t want to sleep with someone immediately after breaking up with someone else?” Adaline pointed out incredulously. “The guy who’s saying that he doesn’t want to fuck up a relationship by moving too fast and jumping into sex before he’s ready? I’ve never heard him say those things before _you_.”

Phil was dumbfounded. It didn’t seem possible that Dan was doing all of these things for the _first time_ solely because of Phil. “You mean, he’s acting different… because of me?” Phil asked stupidly.

“Yes, you idiot, because of you.” Adaline rolled her eyes, just like Dan. “Apparently he’s determined to do whatever _this_ —” she waved her hand vaguely towards Phil, “—is _right._ ”

“Oh,” Phil breathed, unable to keep the wide, beaming smile off of his face. Dan had just ended a rather long relationship — it was downright _dickish_ of Phil to be happy at this moment.

And yet, his heart felt like it was racing faster than a plane about to take off, his body was tingling more than if every single limb had gone numb at once, his stomach was turning over like he was strapped into a never ending roller coaster.

“No, don’t smile yet,” Adaline reprimanded. “I’m not done talking to you.”

Phil’s eyes widened in fear, but he couldn’t make the smile completely go away.

“Like I said, this is new. I’ve never known him to _not_ be sleeping with someone.”

Phil’s eyes flickered away briefly, more uncomfortable with the idea of Dan sleeping with someone — _anyone_ — than he’d like to admit.

“But that being said,” Adaline continued without any respect for Phil’s feelings, “He’s Mr. Fucking Monogamy — in case you couldn’t tell by his reaction to me seeing two guys at once.” Adaline shook her head in exasperation. “I know he’s happy to be done with Isabella — as are the rest of us, frankly — but if I know him at all, I’m willing to wager that getting cheating on is probably hurting him more than he’s letting on.”

“Of course!” Phil rushed to assure her. “I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I got cheated on, even if it was in world’s _worst_ relationship.”

“Exactly.” Adaline stared at him pointedly. “Which is why you need to need to back the fuck up here.”

Phil was startled — whatever he’d been expecting the point of Adaline’s lecture to be, _that_ wasn’t quite it. He worried at his inner lip, drawing it between his teeth and biting harshly. Did that mean Adaline thought Phil wasn’t good enough? Was Adaline saying that any possibility of a relationship with Dan was off the table?

“What do you mean?” Phil asked worriedly, trying to conceal just how deep his anxieties were running.

“I _mean_ that I can’t drop everything and come to London every damn time you two hang out, so I’m going to need you to be respectful of the fact that at least _sober_ Dan wants a little bit of recovery time before—” she waved at Phil again, “—this. Do you think you can do that?”

“I, yeah, of course. I just…” Phil searched for a way to articulate everything he was thinking, “Want him to be happy,” he finished lamely.

“Then wait a bit,” Adaline implored. “Let _him_ come to _you_ — _sober_ , I might add.”

Wait.

Not _fuck off entirely_.

Just, _wait_.

Phil could wait. For Dan, Phil would wait until the damn sun burnt out if that’s what it took.

“I can do that,” Phil smiled.

“You smug git,” Adaline teased. “You’re too happy about the fact that he definitely likes you to give a fuck about waiting, aren’t you?”

“Basic—” Phil was cut off by Dan’s return.

“Here we go, lads.” He set the drinks he was carrying down on the table, sliding each one to the right spot. “I forgot how busy this place gets on Friday nights.”

“Mmm,” Phil hummed as he took a sip of his fresh drink, hoping to avoid having to say anything for a moment so that he could process everything Adaline had just told him. And maybe to hide the stupidly big smile currently sat on his face.

Luckily, Dan took control of the conversation, as he was often want to do. And, like always, Dan proposed something that threw Phil for a loop.

“I want to tweet,” Dan bursted out abruptly. “Can I tweet?” He turned first to Phil, then to Adaline.

“Hey,” Adaline raised her hands in surrender, “I’m not here to police your _public_ life.” She sent a wink at Phil that Dan was, in all probability, too drunk to notice.

“What do you want to tweet, Danny?” Phil asked. In general, Phil had no opposition to tweeting — but also, Dan could probably ask for the moon and Phil would start knitting a big enough lasso, so maybe he wasn’t the best judge.

“Ughhh,” he whined. “Please never call me Danny again. _She_ called me that all the time, and if I ever have to hear that nickname again, I’ll fucking die.”

“Sorry,” Phil apologized. “ _Dear_.”

Phil received a swift kick in the shin from Adaline for that, but it was well worth it when he watched Dan blush and mumble, “I like that a lot better.”

A burst of warmth rushed through Phil’s chest at the genuinely content, flattered look Dan had on his face.

Phil cleared his throat. “So, _dear_ —” another kick to the shin — that was definitely going to bruise, not that Phil really cared _that_ much. “What do want to tweet?”

“Us! And our drinks!” Dan exclaimed, looking more like an overjoyed child than he had any right to at this moment in time. Phil picked up Dan’s phone off the table, grabbing Dan’s hand without asking and pressing his thumb to the home button to unlock it. Once it was unlocked, he opened the camera and slid the phone across the table to Adaline.

He turned his attention back to Dan. “What are we doing in this tweet?”

In response, Dan pushed Phil’s Dark ‘N Stormy into his hand, picking up his own drink. “Hold it and look at the camera,” Dan ordered.

Obediently, Phil raised his glass to his mouth, dramatically taking a sip for the camera. Dan held his up at the same level as Phil’s, giving the camera a knowing look. The camera _clicked_ loudly half a dozen times while Adaline took several version of the same picture so that they had some to pick from.

When Dan deemed there to be enough options, he made grabby hands for his phone, taking it back from Adaline.

“Help me decide which to tweet, Philly.” Dan pulled Phil in by his sleeve. Even though Phil could feel Adaline’s drunken watch on him, Phil let himself lean in ever-so-slightly to Dan. Not enough to warrant another kick in the shin from Adaline, but enough so he could smell Dan’s cologne better, enough so he could feel the warm heat radiating off of Dan’s body, enough so that he felt a little bit _all consumed_ by Dan.

“I like that one,” Phil murmured near Dan’s ear when Dan swiped over one that was a good balance of silly and cute.

“Perfect,” Dan smiled, sharing it to a tweet. He gnawed at his lip for a moment before typing _your fave lads are at it again_ , tagging Phil, and hitting tweet without taking any time to look it over.

***********************

Four hours and five ( _strong_ ) drinks later, both Phil and Dan had surpassed tipsy and were properly _drunk_. Adaline, who’d showed up late and was a drink behind, had a bit more sense intact — but not by much.

“What do you think, lads, one last round?” Dan proposed.

Phil looked at Dan, his eyes struggling to focus clearly. “Okay,” he found himself agreeing anyway. Phil moved to push himself out of the booth.

“No, no, no, no. I think you’ve both had enough for tonight,” Adaline interrupted, catching the sleeve of Phil’s jumper and pulling him back down.

“But Add _dieeeeee_ ,” Dan whined.

“But Daa _aannn_ ,” Adaline whined back, teasing.

Dan raised his hand to the side of his head nearest Phil, only sort of successfully blocking Phil’s view of his face.

“Addie,” Dan whispered loudly, doing a piss-poor job of not letting Phil hear what he was saying. “I don’t wanna leave Phil yet, though.”

Phil’s heart melted. He didn’t particularly want to leave Dan either.

“Too bad,” Adaline mocked Dan, whispering back equally loudly and not even attempting to keep Phil from overhearing their conversation. “I didn’t drag my ass to London just for you to go home with him.”

Dan petulantly crossed his arms, huffing out an annoyed sigh, but didn’t fight her any further.

“And on that note,” Adaline giggled, “I think it’s bedtime, eh?”

“Probably for the best,” Phil agreed. As much as he _adored_ getting to see this drunken version of Dan, as much as he _definitely_ wanted Dan to come home with him, there was just enough left of Phil’s rational brain to know that tonight was _not_ the night for that. Not tonight, not tomorrow night, maybe not even any night soon. Phil knew Dan needed _time_.

Time that Phil was willing to give him.

Adaline stood up, offering a hand to Phil. Phil gratefully accepted the help, letting her pull him to his feet. It had been a while since he’d stood up and — _wow_. The world rocked for a moment. Not having another round was the _right_ decision.

Phil turned around to face Dan, who was staring helplessly up at him.

“Come on,” Phil said, grabbing Dan’s hand in his and tugging gently as Dan got up. The combined momentum sent Dan crashing into Phil, the two of them swaying precariously. In sync, their hands reached out to steady each other, Phil’s landing on Dan’s hips and Dan’s grasping Phil’s shoulders.

The rocking world faded away. All Phil could see was chocolate curls, and espresso eyes, and strawberry lips.

“Philip!” A voice behind him said sharply. Phil whirled around, knocking one of Dan’s hands from his shoulder. Adaline was stood close by, her hands on her hips and a reprimanding look on her face. “Behave!”

“Oops!” Phil ripped his hands from Dan’s hips, stepping backwards, his embarrassment practically radiating off of him.

“And to think, _I’m_ the teenager,” Adaline mumbled.

“Sorry…” Phil apologized half-heartedly. His eyes drifted away from Dan, from Addie, and to the far corner of their booth, where the three of them had hung up their coats.

“Coats!” Phil exclaimed, smiling brightly at his own helpfulness.

Phil handed Adaline her coat before slipping his own on. He plucked Dan’s off the hook, spinning Dan around by the hips so his back was to Phil. Taking much more time and care than necessary, Phil helped Dan into his coat, slowly sliding each arm into the hole and slipping the jacket up his shoulders. When the jacket was on, Phil twisted Dan back to face him, and took Dan’s zipper between his hands.

The alcohol made Phil’s fingers clumsy and sluggish. It took three tries for Phil to successfully thread the zipper into the pull, his eyes focusing on Dan’s once it latched. Unwilling to let go of Dan just yet, Phil tugged the zipper up as slowly as he could, savoring every second of being close to Dan that he got.

Everytime Phil saw Dan, he could his stomach flipping over, his heart racing, his face threatening to break into a smile for no reason other than Dan’s presence. Tonight had been no exception, and now, holding Dan in place _so closely_ to him, every _single_ one of Phil’s feelings was amplified. He never wanted to move away.

But nonetheless, he had to eventually. Phil closed the zipper the final few centimeters, tugging slightly at Dan’s collar, just for something to do.

When Dan was tucked securely into his coat, Phil turned around to see Adaline watching them in amusement, shaking her head at their antics.

“Let’s get out of here, lads,” she said fondly.

“Phil needs an uber!” Dan exclaimed.

 _Oh yeah_ , Phil lived a lot further away than Dan did. Phil moved to fish his phone out of his coat pocket, but Dan already had his own in his hand, calling an uber for Phil.

“Here, Philly, put your address in,” Dan ordered, passing Phil his phone with unsteady fingers. Phil took the phone from Dan, taking four attempts to correctly type his address in the destination box. _Two minutes_ , the app warned when he hit confirm.

“Thanks,” Phil handed back Dan’s phone, turning towards the exit. Dan’s hands came to rest on Phil’s lower back, pushing softly, guiding him towards the door. Adaline trailed behind them, following them outside.

Phil stopped by the curb to wait for his car. To his surprise, Dan stopped next to him — _right_ next to him. Just a few small centimeters away.

“It’s cold,” Dan mumbled, maybe in explanation for why he was hovering so close to Phil.

“I know,” Phil agreed, wrapping his arm around Dan under the guise of providing warmth. And he did feel warmer. Maybe not physically, but there was an internal warmth washing over Phil that he’d never felt before. Phil grinned down at Dan, who’d tucked his head into the crook of Dan’s neck, and pulled him impossibly closer.

They stood like that until Phil’s car came. Phil half expected Adaline to interfere, to tell Phil to take a fucking step back, but when Phil glanced over Dan’s shoulder at her, she was smiling fondly at them.

When Phil’s car pulled up next to them, Dan drew back, but not quite all the way.

“I had a good night, Philly,” he whispered sweetly, eyes searching Phil’s face. Dan’s tongue darted out, licking his lips. Phil’s eyes followed the movement closely.

He should step back, he should give Dan the space that Adaline insisted that he needed.

But before Phil could make himself do it, before Phil could force a bit of space between them, Dan was leaning in slowly, swaying the slightest bit. Phil was rooted in his spot, unable to even move his head.

Dan closed the distance between them, pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to Phil’s cheek. His lips lingered a moment, his hand finding Phil’s and squeezing briefly.

Phil squeezed back. It was the only way he could manage to show his appreciation for the moment. Dan pulled back, finally stepping all the way out of Phil’s embrace.

A hot blush spread over Phil’s face, and, not for the first time that night, Phil felt like a teenager with his first crush.

“Me too, Dan,” Phil smiled softly, climbing into the back of his uber, his hand coming up to touch his cheek as he felt the ghost of Dan’s lips on him.

_Me too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO EXCITED TO HEAR Y'ALLS THOUGHTS
> 
>  
> 
> like and reblog on tumblr 


	15. 15 (7987 words)

Dan woke up face down in his bed the next morning, unable to fucking _move_. He felt like he’d been run over by a goddamn train. In fact, he was pretty sure there wasn’t a single part of his body that didn’t hurt.

_Oh my god, this is definitely what death feels like_.

He needed water. And coffee. And maybe some carbs. 

“Addieeeeee,” Dan called weakly, the sound of his own voice aggravating his head. There was no response — not that he really expected there to be one. He had no way of knowing if Adaline was awake yet, and even if she was, his voice probably didn’t carry as far as the spare bedroom.

Using all of his willpower, Dan shoved his hand under his pillow, blindly feeling around for his phone. When his fingers finally found it, he pulled it far too close to his face and cracked one eye open to look at the screen.

Overnight, his phone had blown up. Frankly, it was a surprise that the vibrations beneath his pillow hadn’t woken him up and it was probably a testament to just how heavily the alcohol had knocked him out. Dan ignored all of the notifications, though, instead opening the phone app and pressing Addie’s name.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!” Adaline greeted him _way_ too cheerfully.

“Uggggh,” was all Dan managed to say — and it was more of a groan than a word. Adaline laughed so loudly that Dan could hear her in the next room over almost as well as he could on the phone. “Come here,” he mumbled.

“You’re bloody insane, Daniel.” The phone went silent halfway through Adaline’s laughter.

Knowing that Adaline was heading his way, Dan tried to force himself to roll towards the door, determined to look at least a _little_ like a functional adult. He wasn’t particularly successful, though — he only made it halfway to his side before the excruciating pain of his hangover stilled him. Dan shut his eyes again, determined to close out the world.

_Good enough_.

He didn’t have to wait long before he heard his door being pushed open, and light pitter patter footsteps across his floor. There was nothing, though, that could have prepared him for the sudden jolt of the bed from Adaline literally _jumping_ on it, landing on her knees near Dan’s torso.

“Fucking hell, Addie,” Dan grumbled, his slight progress towards rolling onto his side having been lost, the force of the bed shaking inadvertently rolled him back onto his stomach.

“Awww, look at you and your hungover ass,” Adaline cooed loudly, with _zero_ respect for Dan’s feelings or headache.

“No one likes you,” Dan murmured bitterly into his pillow. Adaline jumped again, her knee actually knocking against Dan’s ribs this time. “Please stop that,” Dan reached out with every ounce of energy he had and caught her shin.

Even though his grip was nowhere _near_ strong enough to hold her in place, Adaline stopped bouncing and came to rest on her calves, leaning her face down close to his head. “Sanka, you dead?” she asked.

“Ya, mon,” Dan managed to mumble back.

It was a long-standing inside joke between them, a reference to a movie they’d watched constantly growing up. Adaline had originally texted Dan it, with absolutely no follow up, when he was seventeen and out _way_ past his eleven o’clock weekend curfew. He’d been rather drunk at the time, and flirting heavily with someone that he was _pretty sure_ he was going to go home with — both facts that he didn’t want to disclose to his twelve year old sister — but he had taken a moment to write back _ya mon =]_ and apparently that was enough. Without Dan even asking her to, Adaline had covered for him. Ironically, she’d told their parents that Dan’s friend had irresponsibly gotten drunk, and Dan had to take care of them because he was the only sober one — a cover story that she’d texted him in the dead of the night so he knew to go along with it. The next morning, he was fortunately able to pass off his small hangover as sheer exhaustion from helping his “immature friend” get through the night.

And since then, _Sanka, you dead?_ had just become a _thing_ between him and Adaline. If they went too long between talking, or one of them was _supposed_ to hear from the other and didn’t, communication always started with a simple _Sanka, you dead?_ — sometimes even reduced to a quick _sanka?_

Adaline prodded him in the shoulder, pulling Dan out of the near-slumber he’d fallen back into. “Seriously, bro, wake up.” She moved her finger to his cheek, poking him a few times. “Are you really _that_ hungover?” 

“Are you really _not_ hungover?” Dan croaked back, barely audible.

“No, Dan,” Adaline laughed. “Unlike you, I’m not an _old man_.” She poked Dan in the face again before adding, “also I had one less drink than you, which can’t have hurt.”

“I hurt.” Dan turned his head just enough so that Adaline could see he his pout.

Adaline shifted, sitting cross-legged near Dan’s waist, evaluating him with humored eyes. Dan didn’t particularly appreciate her judgment. “Aren’t rockstars supposed to be, like, living the life?” she asked with a small laugh. “You know, doing cocaine every night and shit?”

“Are you really saying you’d rather me be coked-out right now?” Dan looked at her incredulously.

“No, I’m just saying that all things considered, a hangover seems like it’s on the minor end.”

“It doesn’t _feel_ minor,” Dan whined, shoving his face back into his pillow.

“Poor Bear,” Adaline humed, with a not-so-subtle mocking edge to her voice. “What will make you feel better?”

“Coffee,” Dan mumbled into his pillow. “And a crumpet.” 

“I don’t think you have either of those in the house. I tried and failed to have breakfast.”

“Wallet,” Dan gestured vaguely towards his floor where he was pretty sure he’d shed his pants last night — or rather, early this morning. The bed shifting was Dan’s only indication that Adaline had gotten up and followed his vague pointing. “Go downstairs to B ‘n G and get us something.”

“Ooh,” Adaline sounded intrigued. “Can I get chips from the place across the street?” 

“Ad, you can buy the _London Eye_ for all I care, just bring me a fucking crumpet.”

“Needy much?” Adaline mumbled as she left the room, but even Hungover Dan could hear the sarcasm in her voice.

The lure of sleep was tempting, and Dan nearly gave in. But when he closed his eyes, he was haunted by the notification-filled screen of his iphone and he _needed_ to know what all of the notifications were.

Dan fished his phone back out from under the covers and swiped down, looking at the summary of his messages. There were two missed calls from an unknown London phone number, but no voicemail. Must not have been that important. There was a notification from twitter, too. From what Dan could see from the preview, it looked like Phil had retweeted Dan’s tweet at… one thirty in the morning.

What the fuck had he tweeted again?

Dan hadn’t exactly _blacked out_ last night, but, well, the last hour or two of the night were definitely a bit fuzzy. He remembered coming back to the table with a final round, and insisting that he tweet a picture of him and Phil — which, in hindsight, Dan had no recollection of what that picture really had been. At the time, he had thought it was pretty tame, but in the past, Dan had thought some pretty risque things were _tame_ when he was drunk. Although — _Adaline_ had taken it, so it couldn’t have been that bad… right?

And after the photo, they’d drank some more. But what exactly had happened? Dan couldn’t quite remember. He tapped on the twitter notification from Phil, hoping that the photo would jog his memory.

_@AmazingPhil:_ *my* fave lad is at it again <3 RETWEET: _@danielhowell:_ your fave lads are at it again @AmazingPhil [picture]

Dan flushed, both at what Phil had tweeted and at the memories that flooded back.

Flashes of what they’d done after that tweet came to Dan. He had no real recollection of what they’d _talked_ about. He did, however, remember inching closer and closer to Phil throughout the night, he remembered tucking his head into the crevice of Phil’s neck, he remembered kissing Phil’s cheek, and he remembered —

Oh fuck.

He remembered telling Adaline that he wanted to go home with Phil. And as best as Dan could remember, Phil had been sitting _right next to him_ when he’d said it.

Phil had drank just as much as Dan had, though. Maybe Phil didn’t remember — for all Dan knew, Phil could be extremely oblivious to everything while intoxicated. Maybe Drunk Dan’s graceless attempts to be secretive had been _just enough_ to hide his actions from Drunk Phil.

Probably not. But maybe.

Dan swiped back down on his phone, looking at the rest of his notifications. There were three unread messages from Phil. One that came in at half past midnight, and two that had come in that morning.

Whatever they were, Dan wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with them. He was cringing too hard from his own drunken behavior that he couldn’t _possibly_ stand to open the messages. If he ignored them, maybe they’d go away and the consequences of his actions wouldn’t be real.

Dan shoved his phone back under his pillow, so far away that it _clunked_ against the headboard. Determined to ignore it as best as possible, Dan shifted down the bed until his head was laying where his butt normally was and his feet were hanging far off the bed.

There.

Now, whatever had happened last night, whatever Phil had texted him, couldn’t touch Dan. He was safe down at the bottom of the bed and the world could just fuck the _fuck_ off.

Dan must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing he knew, Adaline was perched on his abandoned pillow, waving something buttery and something coffee-y over his head.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she sang lightly, knocking something soft into his shoulder. 

Dan flipped the covers off his face and looked up, his eyes hungrily landing on what Adaline had in her hands.

“Gimme,” Dan begged quietly.

“Sit up, silly, and you can have it.”

With every ounce of strength he had, Dan pushed himself into a cross-legged position across from Adaline, who was mirroring his position, leaned against the headboard with a box of greasy-looking chips in her lap. Dan immediately made grabby hands, reaching out to take whatever she’d brought him.

“Geez, geez, here.” She passed him a bag and a small to-go cup. “One crumpet, one triple espresso.”

Dan took a tentative sip of the coffee — _god_ , he was dehydrated. But more than that, he desperately needed caffeine, so he powered through. He waited until he’d swallowed a few gulps to look back up at Adaline.

“So,” he asked tentatively, “On a scale of one to ten, how much did I embarrass myself last night?”

Adaline giggled, shoving chip in her mouth and looking at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Maybe a seven?”

“That’s it?” Dan asked skeptically.

“Well, you didn’t throw up, so there’s minus one. And you didn’t offend anyone, so there’s minus another point. Plus, your drunk tweet was highly acceptable and actually cute, so there’s minus another.”

“But with Phil…” Dan trailed off.

Adaline laughed loudly and freely — that wasn’t a good sign. “You’re fucked there, mate. A full ten out of ten on that scale.”

Dan dropped his bagged crumpet to the bed, leaning forward until his forehead collided with Adaline’s ankle.

“Was it really that bad?” he asked gravely.

“I mean… well, maybe.” Adaline sounded pitying, which wasn’t overly promising. “But he was just as gone and embarrassing as you, so you’re _fine_.”

Dan peeked up slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ ,” Adaline said, tugging on his chin slightly so he sat upright again, “Phil seems just as hopelessly head over heels for you, so all of the humiliating shit you did?” Dan’s cheeks colored red at the reminder.” Yeah, he was just as bad.”

“Hmm.” Dan tore open the bag and took the crumpet out, nibbling off a small bite. _Carbs, thank god._ He thought back, trying to focus his mind on Phil’s actions last night — he remembered Phil’s hand landing on his leg at some point, he remembered Phil helping Dan put his coat on, he remembered Phil drawing Dan in close on the cold pavement.

“He texted me,” Dan blurted out.

“Oh did he, now?” Adaline didn’t sound surprised. Dan nodded vigorously, immediately regretting it due to the amplified pounding in his head. “And what did Sir Philip say?”

“I don’t know.” Dan turned back to his crumpet, peeking up at Adaline bashfully.

Adaline looked at him like he was ridiculous. “What do you mean _you don’t know_?”

“I didn’t read them. I was too nervous.”

“Oh my god, Daniel James Howell, who is the teenager here?” Adaline rolled her eyes, not waiting for a response from Dan. “Where’s your phone?”

“Under your ass.”

Adaline didn’t question him — she’d known Dan too long to question anything, probably. She merely leaned forward on her hands and pulled Dan’s pillow out from under her, plucking his phone off the bed.

“Passcode?”

“Twelve-fourteen,” Dan answered without thinking, breaking off another bite of crumpet.

“ _One two one four…_ ” Adaline mumbled as she punched the digits. “What’s the significance of that?”

“The day I signed my record deal,” Dan said through a mouth full of food.

“Oh, look at that, Danny boy is a little sap.” Adaline peered up from the phone, taunting him with a smile. 

“Fuck off. Don’t pretend your passcode isn’t something stupidly personal, too,” Dan complained, kicking out and nudging her calf with his foot. “What did Phil say?”

“Hmmm,” Adaline hummed as she navigated his phone, leaving Dan in desperate suspense. “He texted you last night, looks like when he got home maybe. He said he had a nice time and that it was nice to meet me and that you’re really pretty.”

“Wait, really?” Dan asked, surprised. He lowered his crumpet from his open mouth, staring at Adaline in disbelief.

“Really, really,” Adaline smirked.

“All of it?” Dan tried to reign in his giddiness, sure that Adaline was fucking with him. “He called me pretty?”

Adaline looked at Dan, amused and disbelieving. “Of course, you dipshit. That kid thinks the damn sun shines out of your ass, he obviously thinks you’re pretty.”

“Oh.” Dan felt his cheeks flushing and ineffectively tried to hide behind his coffee cup. 

“You’re such a fucking dork,” Adaline mumbled under her breath. “Do you want to know what he said this morning?”

“I don’t know, is it terrible?”

“What do you mean _is it terrible_?” Adaline asked, her tone belieing the fact that she clearly thought Dan was an idiot.

“I don’t know, like, did he call me out for being drunk and dumb and coming on too strong?”

“Dan, he was plenty drunk and dumb and came on plenty strong himself, you weren’t alone, okay?” Dan cheeks, which were already flushed, felt like they grew impossibly hotter. He nodded his head dumbly, hoping Adaline would continue. “So he texted you an hour ago saying _please dear god tell me you’re as hungover as I am?_ And then he texted you again twenty minutes ago saying — oh.”

“Oh, _what_?” Dan demanded, dread washing through him. Had Phil remembered how much of a drunk mess Dan had been last night? What if Phil changed his mind — or worse, Dan had read too much into Phil’s feelings for him?

“Er…” Adaline squirmed a bit. Dan could feel the knot in his stomach tightening. “Just remember that you were drunk, and were being suuuuuuper forward, and kind of hard to reign in last night.”

“Oh god, what?” The fear in Dan’s veins rushed faster. What the bloody _fuck_ had he done last night?

“Well, I’d had a bit to drink too, and at one point I just flat out told Phil that I was there to babysit you and gave him a big lecture about how you needed time and space.” Adaline’s expression made it clear that she was wary of Dan’s reaction, which was fair. A lot of people — most people, probably — would be pissed if someone else was that brutally honest with their crush on their behalf, but Dan just felt a wave of affection. 

Phil had needed to know. He’d needed to know that all of Dan’s flirting, and looks, and comments weren’t meaningless. Dan needed him to understand Dan not immediately making a move wasn’t because Dan didn’t _want_ to. And as embarrassing as it was, Dan even kind of wanted Phil to know that Dan thought he was _different_ , that he was _special_.

So Adaline taking the initiative to tell Phil, especially when Dan hadn’t known _how_ to, was really just a blessing in disguise.

“You’re a good egg,” Dan whispered, offering her a small smile and ruffling up her hair.

“I know, I know. I’m amazing,” Adaline joked, sounding relieved at Dan’s reaction.

“No, seriously,” Dan insisted. “I don’t think I would have ever gotten the guts to say that to Phil and he needed to hear it. He needs to know that I’m in, but I just need, well, _time_.”

Adaline shrugged, laughing a bit. “Glad to help. I figure, Drunken Overprotective Dan has come to my defense enough that Drunk Overprotective Addie probably owes him a few favors.”

“So what did he say?” Dan asked, suddenly remembering that the point behind this conversation was that there was _another_ message from Phil. A message that had made Adaline hesitate, and confess she’d done last night. 

Adaline took a deep breath before reading. “He said that he was sorry if he crossed any lines last night and that he understands that you need time and that he’s there when you’re ready and he hopes you can be friends in the meantime.”

Dan’s mind whirled at all everything Addie was saying, not necessarily because of the _amount_ , but because of the _content_. All morning, Dan had been worrying that he’d made a drunken ass of himself, that _he’d_ been the one out of line last night. But Phil’s hungover bum was laying in his green and blue sheets, feeling nervous about the same thing. Unlike Dan, though, Phil was concerned that Dan might not want to be friends, and Dan couldn’t let Phil think that for even a second more.

He lunged forward, swiping his phone out of Adaline’s hands so that he could see the messages for himself. Now that he knew what they were, he wasn’t too humilated to read them.

**Phil [12:28am]:** I had a realky good time tonigjt an it was great to meet youur sister. Your’e very pretty night noght dear

**Phil [9:14am]:** Please dear god tell me you’re as hungover as I am? 

**Phil [9:57am]:** Dan, I’m really sorry if I crossed any lines last night. I understand and respect the fact that you need time after Isabella and I want you to know that I’m here when you’re ready. Until then, I really hope we can still be friends xx

Dan typed back a message, hitting send before he let himself think over it — or worse, let Addie read it. Adaline was the queen of playing by imaginary dating rules, and if she saw what Dan was typing before he sent it, she’d surely make him change it.

**Dan [10:22am]:** i’ll always want to be friends with you, phil. no matter what

Fuck that came out even sappier than Dan had meant for it to. Maybe he should have let Addie look at it, after all. Embarrassed, he quickly tacked on another message.

**Dan [10:22am]:** why am i so hungover wtf 

There. That was more casual, right? Not _too_ casual, hopefully. Dan didn’t want to come across like he was _avoiding_ talking about the topic of, well, _them_. 

“Awww is baby brother texting back?” Adaline teased. Dan had barely pressed send on the second message before the phone was being ripped out of his hands.

“Addie, what the fuck! Swiper no swiping!” Dan launched himself towards his sister to steal his phone back, but was easily defeated. She held the phone _just_ far enough out of reach that he would have had to kneel up to reach it, and _god knows_ he wasn’t capable of doing that at this moment in time.

“Let’s see what you’re saying to your _boyfrieeeend_.” 

“Stop calling him that, he’s not my boyfriend.” Dan’s hand was still limply reaching out for his phone, but he’d resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to get it back unless Adaline gave it to him, or he mustered the energy to crawl to his knees to grab it back.

“Yet,” Adaline said simply, keeping the phone out of Dan’s reach but tilting it enough that she could see the screen. “God, bro, do you have no chill?”

“What? What do you mean?” Dan asked, alarmed. It had been a long time since he’d started dating someone, and he hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Louise that he sucked at it. His hatred — and slight ineptitude — when it came to dating, to playing _the game_ , was at least _part_ of why he was so adamant about monogamy.

“I’ll always want to be friends with you, Phil,” Adaline read back, her voice several octaves higher than normal, “No matter what!” She stuck her tongue out, making a gagging noise. “You’re disgusting and I hate — jesus fuck, you double texted, too.” 

“So!” Dan exclaimed. He wanted to defend himself, but to do that he needed _energy_. “Phil triple texted!” he whined back.

“I guess you’re right…” Adaline trailed off, tossing him his phone back. Dan caught it gratefully. 

“Do you think I need to, like… play it more cool or something?”

Adaline snorted. “I think _playing it cool_ is well out the window after last night, don’t you?”

“I mean, yeah. But like,” Dan drank the remainder of his coffee as he tried to find the right words. “Like, do you think I should chill out on the texting him and seeing him all the time thing?”

Adaline stared at him contemplatively for a bit longer than Dan was comfortable with. He squirmed under her gaze, wishing he still had coffee or food left, just so he had something to do with his hands. 

“Honestly, I don’t know,” she finally said quietly. “I don’t really know the protocol for when you’re already head over heels for someone and are trying to wait because of some arbitrary thing.”

“It’s not arbitr—” Dan tried to interrupt, but Adaline cut him off.

“Sorry, sorry, that was the wrong word.” She rolled her eyes endearingly.

Dan twirled his phone between his fingers, his hangover finally lifting _just enough_ that movement wasn’t painful. “You don’t think I’m being insane, right?”

“I always think you’re insane. How so, specifically?”

“By waiting. With Phil, I mean.”

“No, I don’t. I think that it’s something I’ve never seen from you and I think that it’s good. Tbh, I’m still _kinda_ shocked that you aren’t dragging me or Louise to a bar to be a wingman so you can find someone to fuck _while_ you wait.”

“I couldn’t do that to Phil,” Dan said honestly, shrugging slightly.

“Yeah,” Adaline agreed. “And that’s what’s different. I like it. This whole _trying to keep it in your pants_ thing is a good look on you.”

As complimentary as Addie’s words were, there was a hint of laughter to them that Dan couldn’t overlook. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“You mean the fact that you train’ed me in so that you wouldn’t fuck your crush? No. Never. I’m talking about it in my speech at the wedding.”

“We’re not —” 

“Dating, I know, I know.” Her lips curled into a smile. “Yet.”

_Yet._

Dan’s phone _dinged_ in his hands, drawing both of their attention down. 

“You deal with that, I’m going to get dressed. And so are you. And then you are going to hold up your promise to do something fun with me today.” Adaline flicked him on the nose, hopped off the bed, and trailed out of the room, pulling the door shut behind herself.

Dan waited until the door _clicked_ to unlock his phone and read what Phil wrote.

**Phil [10:36am]:** Because we drank hardly any water and bad news bears, but hangovers just get worse the older you get. 

Dan smiled stupidly down at his phone. Phil was just so _goddamn cute_. It didn’t take Dan long to craft a response — he’d decided that Adaline’s permission to not follow the _cool rules_ of dating meant that he could just say the first thing that came to his mind. 

**Dan [10:38am]:** great now i’m thinking about my inevitable death, thanks for that

Staring at his phone, Dan crawled out of bed and stumbled over to his wardrobe. He stared at the little _delivered_ message, willing it to change to _read_. Jesus, he didn’t even know if Phil had read receipts on, and Dan was staring at his phone like a fucking schoolkid. 

Forcefully, Dan sat his phone down on his dresser, and determinedly turned his attention to finding an outfit for the day. His fingers trailed across the hangers as he tried to decide what to wear. For a second, he hovered over Phil’s jumper, briefly considering pulling that on, but he’d endured _far_ too much taunting from Adaline already and decided he didn’t need to add to it.

Instead, he settled on wearing a stupidly expensive, but _amazing_ Alexander McQueen sweatshirt that read _hissing at the sun_ , because he felt like it really fit his hungover aesthetic.

Dan had one leg in and one leg out of his jeans when his phone went off. Eager to see if it was Phil, Dan tried to rush back over to his dresser, totally forgetting that he wasn’t really in his jeans yet, and nearly tripped over himself. He caught himself on his dresser at the last minute, cheeks burning red in humiliation despite there having been no one there to witness his mistake, and picked up his phone to read the message. 

**Phil [10:44am]:** You’re a dork

Dan typed back a response without thinking, quickly pressing send.

**Dan [10:45am]:** but i’m your dork 

It took a minute for what Dan had said to really sink in, but when it did. Dan nearly dropped his phone. 

_Fuck._

Even considering that he’d given up following the _cool rules_ of dating, Dan knew _that_ was _too much_.

“ADALINE.” Dan screamed, kicking off his jeans because lord _knows_ he didn’t have the emotional capacity to wrangle on skinny jeans at that moment. “ADDIE. I FUCKED UP, GET OUT HERE.”

Dan tore down the hallway, coming to a halt in front of the closed guest bedroom door. He raised his fist up and pounded frantically on it. 

“ADS. ADDIE. FUCKING HELL. OPEN UP. JES—”

The door opened suddenly, the momentum of Dan’s hand against nothing sending him toppling forward. Adaline ducked out of the way just in time, letting Dan fall gracelessly to the floor.

“What the fuck did you do now?” Adaline asked, hands on her hips, but a knowing smirk on her face. From the ground, Dan helplessly offered up his phone, burying his face in his hands as soon as Adaline had taken it from him.

“Good _lord_ , Daniel. I leave you alone for _five fucking minutes_.” She laughed. Dan peeked his eyes between his fingers to look up at her. Her eyes were lit up with mirth as she stared back down at him. 

Dan groaned into his hands, rolling over to lay face down on the floor. Adaline nudged him in the side with the tip of her foot. “Dan?” _nudge_ “Daaaan?” _nudge_ “Dannie _lllI_?” _nudge nudge._

“Leave me alone to wallow in my misery,” Dan mumbled.

Two strong, sure hands scooped under his arm, pulling him backwards until he was seated on his calves. “No. You are going to go put some bloody trousers on, and I’m going to finish brushing my damn hair, and then we are going to go to the shops and make the people think that we are going to buy horribly expensive things, and then disappear when they turn around.”

It was a game they’d played since they were young. They’d go into the fanciest shops, and pretend to be really, _truly_ interested in something unbelievably expensive, and then they’d duck out when the salesperson disappeared for a moment. It had only grown more entertaining as Dan gained fame — salespeople were suddenly _much_ more inclined to think that two young kids were going to drop thousands of pounds.

Okay, so, they were dicks.

But at this point, their little _game_ had resulted in Dan _actually_ spending significant money before — the fucking _two hundred pound_ McQueen sweatshirt he was currently wearing was proof of that. Karma had made him spend enough money that he didn’t feel _too_ poorly about it.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled, pushing himself to his feet. He held his hand out for his phone expectantly.

“Oh, no!” Adaline reprimanded. “You’ve lost the rights to having this alone. I’ll hold on to this from now on.”

“I know I should hate you for that, but I don’t,” Dan laughed, leaving Adaline’s room to finish getting dressed. _Dating_ had never been Dan’s talent. Nor had controlling himself around Phil. And now that the two of those were coming together, he was a downright _disaster._ Really, it was for the best that Adaline was trying to instill some sense of control in him — hopefully he could make it last when she went home. 

Back in his room, Dan pulled on his jeans for a second time, this time without the distraction of his bloody phone. He knew he’d probably tweet some picture today, since he was going out with Adaline, so he tried his best to tone down the _deathly hungover_ look. He patted some eye cream under his eyes, and rubbed a dab of moistuizer into his face. It helped him look a _little_ less dead, at least. 

Dan was fiddling with his hair in his bathroom mirror when Adaline came prancing into his room. She hopped up on the counter, staring at him impatiently until Dan turned his attention to her.

“What?” he asked impatiently.

“Loverboy texted back,” she said with a smirk.

Dan let his forehead fall against the mirror, probably ruining the careful arrangement of his mop of curls, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “What did Phil say?”

“He’s cute, he likes you.”

Dan shot back, standing upright and staring at his sister. “Really? He wasn’t, like, totally freaked out?”

“No,” Addie giggled. “Here, you can read. Don’t press send on anything you type, though. I don’t trust you.”

Warily, Dan took the phone from her. Just because _Addie_ was giggling about whatever Phil had said, _did not_ mean that it was fine. She’d been known to take too much pleasure in his agony before. Gathering every ounce of courage he had, Dan tilted the screen to face him, reading the messages.

**Phil [11:03am]:** Yeah :) 

**Phil [11:05am]:** So how are you dealing with your hangover?

Dan’s eyes flickered up to the time. _11:08_. “Adaline!” He whacked her ankle. You let me stew in worry for five whole minutes?”

“So _rrrry_ , bro, I had things to do other than manage your love life.” 

“That’s literally the whole reason you’re in town,” Dan deadpanned.

“Trust me, I remember.” Adaline rolled her eyes. “Now type something back so I can read over it first.”

Dan drew his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down with a bit more force than intended. He wanted to say something funny, something entertaining. After everything so far, he needed to not sound _too_ desperate, but he didn’t want to sound aloof either. He typed and backspaced, typed and backspaced. Hopefully Phil didn’t have their conversation opened, because if so, he’d see how fucking long it was taking Dan to type an answer to what was frankly a very simple question. It took _five tries_ , but he finally came up with a draft he was happy with. Dan passed his phone to his sister. She read it over, and pressed send for him. 

**Dan [11:12am]:** i sent addie out for rations aka coffee and carbs and once that works its magic we are going to venture out in the world because i promised to do something fun with her today since she came all the way into the city

No point in pretending Adaline was here for anything else, now. Addie handed him his phone back, and Dan typed a second message. He turned the phone back to Adaline. “Flirty or too much?” Dan asked.

“Flirty, definitely.” Adaline nodded. “You can send that.” 

**Dan [11:13am]:** what about you, old man? 

Adaline jumped off the counter and headed for the door, taking Dan’s phone with her. “Now, stop obsessing over your hair and let’s _go_.”

Dan crinkled his nose at her and ran a pump of mousse into his hair, adding a hint of bounce to it, before calling it good and following Addie out of the room.

Adaline was waiting for him in the lounge, scrolling through her own phone. 

“Took you long enough,” she said when he entered the room. “You took longer than _me_ to get ready.”

“I’m still kind of hungover, leave me be,” Dan grumbled.

“Never. I’m gonna call us an uber since it’s cold as tits outside.” Adaline tapped around on her phone for a moment before looking back up. “Wait, should I have them drop us off at some uni first? So we can take a picture for mum or whatever?”

Dan shrugged. “Seems like a poor use of our time since I’m sure she’ll find out why you really came sooner or later.”

“True. Straight to the shops then!” Adaline chucked him his phone. “You got a call from a random number, btw. I took the liberty of ignoring it for you.”

“Definitely the right choice.” Dan unlocked his phone and, sure enough, there was a miss call — from the _same_ phone number as earlier, weirdly. But still no voicemail. There was a text from Phil, too.

**Phil [11:17am]:** Unlike you, I don’t have anyone I can make bring me food, so I’m curled up in bed dying alone with Buffy.

_Poor Phil_ , Dan thought. If Addie hadn’t already called the uber, Dan probably would have suggested that they bring Phil a surprise snack. But it was fine, hopefully Dan would have plenty of opportunities to spoil Phil in the future. He decided to ignore that part of the message, focusing on the other half of what Phil had said.

**Dan [11:29am]:**...the vampire slayer or a secret girlfriend?

He was joking, mostly. He knew Phil wasn’t _actually_ seeing anyone, but, well, a bit of reassurance was always nice. 

Dan followed Adaline down to their car when it arrived, continuously checking his phone. She was texting someone too — which was probably something Dan should ask her about, now that his drama was dying down. But since _she_ was wrapped up in her phone, Dan didn’t feel too bad about texting Phil for their whole car ride, and he figured he’d ask her about whoever she was talking to later.

**Phil [11:32am]:** The vampire slayer, obviously.

**Dan [11:33am]:** just checking how jealous i should be

Dan bit his lip; he hoped that was the right combination of flirty and jealous, and didn’t veer off into unjustly clingy territory. Phil responded quickly, though, easing his fears.

**Phil [11:34am]:** Well in that case, very. I used to have such a big crush on Sarah Michelle Gellar.

**Phil [11:34am]:** But seriously, this show is amazing. I’ve seen it so many times.

Phil was cute. Dan adored the way that Phil loved things with all of his heart, they way he was so openly excited about the things he liked. Even when they were nerdy as all hell. It reminded Dan of himself. Once he’d gotten past the awkwardness of being a nerdy teenager, Dan had always tried to be unapologetic of who he was, and to not feel embarrassed about the things that he loved.

**Dan [11:35am]:** don’t hate me but i’ve never seen buffy

**Phil [11:35am]:** YOU WHAT???

**Phil [11:36am]:** THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE

Biting his lip, Dan held back a giggle at Phil’s outrage. The all-caps texting just made it all the more adorable. He didn’t need Adaline making fun of him, though, if she saw him laughing over a _text_. 

**Dan [11:37am]:** sorry mate. i just never got around to it

As Dan sent the message, their uber came to a stop in front of their destination— which was apparently the Versace store. _Of course_ , Adaline fucking would. Dan rolled his eyes. Apparently, Adaline was committed to their little game of _window shopping_ today, and was determined to go big. Dan’s phone vibrated — Phil must have responded — but he ignored it and shoved it into his pocket instead, helping Addie out of the car and leading her to the entrance of the store.

They both riffled through the racks, each accumulating a small wardrobe of clothes to try on — including a studded knit top from the women’s department that Dan was pretty sure he’d end up buying. Now that he had money, he was complete shit at this game.

Dan waited until he was locked in his dressing room to look at what Phil had said.

**Phil [11:39am]:** When does Adaline leave? You’re coming over immediately and we are starting your Buffy education

An excuse to see Phil again outside of Beans and Grind — and so soon, too — was _very_ welcomed, and Dan was glad that Phil seemed to see it that way, too. Did it come across as _too_ eager if Dan tried to see Phil tomorrow? But Phil _had_ said as soon as Adaline left, so maybe he was just as eager to see Dan.

Fuck it. Dan wanted to see Phil and he was complete shit at waiting.

**Dan [12:16pm]:** tomorrow afternoon

Sitting his phone down unlocked and face up on the bench, Dan shed his coat and pulled his sweatshirt over his head. He tugged on the women’s shirt he’d picked out, and appraised it in the mirror. 

He liked it. He’d gotten a big enough size that it was fitted, but he didn’t think it was _too_ tight, and he liked how the tiny silver metal studs popped against the black sweater.

“Oi, Addie, see what you think of this,” Dan called, popping out of his dressing room.

Adaline stuck her head out of her door, appraising Dan’s sweater. “I like it,” she complimented, sounding sincere. 

“Yeah?” Dan fiddled with the hem. “It’s not too tight, right?” 

“Definitely not, you look good in it. I’m sure _someone_ would probably find it sexy if you wore it on a date.”

“Shut up,” Dan grumbled, he cheeks flushing. Secretly, he thought Phil might like him in it, too, but he felt embarrassed to be _called out_.

“You’re going to get it, aren’t you?” Adaline asked. Dan nodded. “God, you’ve turned so bougie,” she laughed.

“I’ve always had bougie taste, and you know it,” he shot back. It was true — their game of window shopping in expensive stores had started because Dan was obsessed with high end fashion from a young age.

“Doesn’t make it any less disgusting,” Adaline teased, ducking back into her room. Dan rolled his eyes and turned back to his own dressing room. When he got back inside, Dan saw that Phil had texted him back.

**Phil [12:18pm]:** I have a liveshow tomorrow night and I really shouldn’t cancel it :( 

_Oh_. That sucked. Even though Dan had _just_ seen Phil last night, Dan had been excited that he might get to see Phil again tomorrow night. 

Dan bit his lip, trying to think of a way they might salvage the night somehow. After all, he only had two weeks left before he left for Germany for his concert, and he really wanted to soak up as much Phil time as he could. 

**Dan [12:26pm]:** i could still come over and just fuck off while you do your live show

Fuck, did that sound too clingy? Was it too weird of a suggestion? Dan quickly tacked on another message, hoping to make it seem less odd.

**Dan [12:26pm]:** if that wouldn’t be weird

Dan’s heart pounded as he waited for a response. The three dots felt mocking as they flashed across his screen. 

What felt like _years_ later, Phil’s reply showed up.

**Phil [12:27pm]:** Not weird. You could just watch an episode without me? 

Thank fuck. Frankly, Dan probably would have watched _paint dry_ while Phil did his liveshow if that meant still seeing him tomorrow. He grinned as he went to type another reply.

**Dan [12:29pm]:** deal. i’ll text you after i’ve dropped addie off at the train station?

Phil responded almost instantly, which Dan hoped was a sign that he was just as eager to see Dan as Dan was to see Phil.

**Phil [12:30pm]:** Perfect :) 

The shop clerk didn’t _love_ the fact that they were only buying _one_ sweater, even though they must have tried on thirty things between them. Dan felt bad, just for a second, until the clerk made a comment about how the sweater Dan was buying was a _woman’s_ sweater. That sure made all of the guilt vanish from Dan’s conscious. In fact, he wished he’d made _more_ of a mess of the fitting room. Whatever. People sucked.

After Versace, Dan and Adaline continued their pilgrimage down the street of high end fashion shops, ducking in a store every time they got cold or something caught their eye. A few stores, and hours, later, they were in Michael Kors. Dan wasn’t trying anything on — it was all a bit preppy for his taste — but Adaline had taken nearly half the store into a dressing room with her. Dan sat on a bench outside her room, critiquing every outfit she tried on. Near the end of her mini fashion show, she came out in a chic blue leather jacket that looks _fantastic_ on her. 

“You’re getting that,” Dan said instantly. “You need something _cool_ to wear to the concert.”

“Lol, with what money, you dumbass?” Adaline deadpanned, rolling her eyes. “I’m pretty sure it’s like five hundred pounds.”

“Give it to me. I’m getting it for you as a belated birthday present.”

“Dan, you’re already taking me to Germany for my birthday!” Adaline rebutted, eyes wide.

“A gift that cost me precisely zero pounds. Give me.” Dan held his hand out expectantly for the jacket.

“You’re a piece of work,” Adaline grumbled, shrugging out of the jacket and handing it to him. “But thank you.” She flashed him a small smile. She may mock him for having bougie taste, but when it came down to it, she did too.

“Meet me by the tills when you’re done.”

After Dan paid for the jacket, he busied himself at the jewelry case while he waited for Adaline, looking at the watches for lack of anything better to do. Since Dan had just dropped a rather large sum on a jacket, the salesman was attentively eyeing Dan, probably hoping to make another large sale.

It was making Dan a bit uncomfortable. He had no intentions of buying anything else here — he hadn’t even planned to buy _this_ jacket. The attentive gaze left him feeling like a circus animal being demanded to perform.

Fortunately, Adaline came to Dan’s rescue just as the salesman wandered over. Dan shoved the bag at her, pushing her out of the store by her shoulders. 

“What’s the rush?” Adaline mumbled.

“That salesperson looks out for blood,” Dan whispered. He felt Adaline try to twist around to look, but he tightened his grip on her, steering her out of the door.

They’d only made it a few steps out of the store when Dan’s phone started vibrating again. Assuming it was another text from Phil, Dan had planned to ignore it - but then he realized that the vibration wasn’t stopping. That had to mean he was getting a phone call. 

Digging his phone out of his pocket, Dan brought Adaline to a halt on the street, and glanced at the screen to find out who was calling him. Only, when he checked the caller ID, it was she same random London number that had been calling him since yesterday. 

“Who the fuck is this?” Dan muttered, growing frustrated with the sheer amount of phone calls. With a burst of extroversion that Dan didn’t realize he had, he pressed _accept_. “Hello?”

“Hi Danny,” a honeyed voice replied.

Dan’s blood ran ice cold, body frozen. _Fuck_. Whatever he was expecting, this wasn’t it.

“Isabella,” He replied, the shock of hearing her voice had frozen him in place.

Adaline’s head whipped around to face him — apparently she was equally surprised to hear who was on the phone. 

“Hang up,” Adaline commanded.

“What the fuck do you want?” Dan demanded instead.

“I don’t like how things ended between us, baby.” Isabella said sweetly, _too_ sweetly. “I think we can fix this.” 

_Was she fucking serious?_ She’d cheated on him — _multiple times_ , nonetheless — and for some ludicrous reason, she thought _any_ type of relationship with Dan was salvageable?

“Really? Because I fucking _loved_ finding out you’re a cheating whore!” Dan replied, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“It was a mistake, cariño. I feel so awful about it. I want to make it up to you.” Her voice was still too sweet — there was no sincerity to it.

“I know how you can make it up to me.”

“How? Anything for you, Danny.” Dan closed his eyes, cringing at the nickname. He could practically _see_ her batting her eyes at him, could practically _feel_ her fingers running down his arm.

“Fuck off Isabella,” Dan snapped. 

“That’s not what I —”

Dan didn’t give her the chance to finish her sentence, though. Yanking the phone away from his ear, Dan took Adaline’s advice and ended the call.

“What the hell was that?” Adaline asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“I think she wanted to try to get back together,” Dan replied, perplexed, staring blankly at his screen. Her number was right there at the top of his call log, a heavy weight in his hands.

“Give me your phone,” Adaline ordered. Without thinking it through, Dan handed it over. He didn’t want it anyway.

“Wait, what are you doing?” He asked once he processed what was happening.

“Blocking her fucking number, obviously.” 

For a fleeting second, Dan wondered if that was smart — if it was smart to completely block her out, to entirely burn the bridge between them. But then again, why the _fuck_ would he ever want to talk to her again?

“Good,” Dan mumbled. And then again, more surely, “Good.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like and reblog on tumblr 


	16. 16 (11,532)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) sorry this is super late. i’m on vacation. it’s my birthday. i’m drinking mimosas. sue me. 2) i did a lot of the editing for this chapter on my phone. if there are mistakes, that’s why lol. 3) extra special thanks to @auroraphilealis for looking over this a million times since i edited in bits and pieces, especially for editing while @phillybops is visiting <3

Sunday morning, Phil spent far too much energy trying to distract himself from his thoughts about Dan. He’d tried to force himself to sleep in, but the excitement and the nerves were pumping an overwhelming amount of adrenaline into his system. By eight, he’d given up any hope of falling back asleep, and clambered out of bed, stumbling into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

One would think that spending so much of his time working in an all-organic coffee shop would have ruined instant coffee for Phil, but it hadn’t. If anything, Phil valued the ease of dumping a spoonful of grounds into boiling water and not having to do anything else more than ever, now.

After coffee, Phil did his best to occupy himself. He filmed a video, which went better than expected, all things considered. His keyed up emotions came across as excitement about glow in the dark slime rather than a lowky panic about his personal life, so that worked out well.

The video had made a right mess, though. As soon as Phil stopped filming, he jumped in the shower, scrubbing the glue and slime off of him. Today had been an interesting day to choose to film _that_ video of all possibilities. The bedsheets were covered in just as much slime as he was, meaning he definitely needed to do laundry. Still dripping wet, Phil bundled up the sheets and shoved them into the wash, reminding himself to make his bed later — he didn’t want Dan to come over and think that Phil was in the middle of washing his sheets because he was expecting, well, _something_. 

Especially not know, when Phil knew that Dan wanted to take this slow, wanted to take some time for himself.

Laundry ended up sparking a mini-cleaning spree. Phil cleaned his flat for as long as he could, but really it wasn’t that messy to start with, so it didn’t take up more than an hour of his time — and even that hour was pushing it. In an attempt to waste yet _more_ time before Dan showed up, Phil resorted to doing all of the weird cleaning tasks that he almost _never_ got around to. He dusted his bookshelf, carefully taking each knick knack down, wiping it down, and putting it back in its spot. He hoovered, swept, _and_ mopped, which might have been overkill, but whatever. He even tried to organize the tangled knot of cords below his television that ran to all of his gaming systems. 

Eventually, Phil ran out of things to clean, and finally gave up on that. He knew Dan was planning to be around during Phil’s liveshow, so Phil figured that it was best to prepare for his liveshow early. He forced himself to sit down at his desk and brainstorm what he was going to talk about. 

This week, it felt like there were _so many_ off limit topics — many of which were topics his viewers would probably want to talk about. But Phil had no desire to talk about Valentine’s Day with them, and he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to delve into what drinks with Dan had been like — especially when he was still trying to make sense of it himself. Plus, they always asked how things were going with the BBC, hoping for insight to what he might be doing in his next radio show, but Phil hadn’t had the chance to talk to his producers about the possibility of Dan making a guest appearance, so he _definitely_ couldn’t mention that to his viewers.

Plus, he knew Dan was going to be here, _in his house_ while he was doing his liveshow, which made Phil even more determined to not fuck it up and look like an idiot.

So, Phil stared at a blank google doc, desperately trying to decide what safe topics to focus on. 

There was the video he’d filmed that morning — he could hint at that. Normally, he’d edit it today so that it would be ready to put up tomorrow, but with Dan coming over, Phil couldn’t make himself focus. Perhaps he’d promise that it would be up Tuesday or Wednesday then — that should give him enough time to edit. 

Television was another safe topic. This week, Phil had started a new anime, and a decent percentage of his viewers would probably be interested in that. That was something he could draw out for a while, maybe even ask other people what they were watching, or if they had any recommendations. 

But that was only two things. Even planning to do a short liveshow, he really should have three things planned to talk about. 

Yesterday, he’d had lunch with PJ, who was visiting London for a meeting with his management. They’d gone to a new tropical-themed restaurant. The atmosphere and the drinks had been great, but the food had been mediocre at best. Phil had taken a picture of his pink, fruity drink, as well as the big fake palm trees, so he could show those, and maybe tell the story about his and PJ’s awkward experience with their flirty waiter. 

Good enough. Surely he could stretch those conversations out long enough to be a suitable length. Phil closed out of his google doc and glanced at the clock. Three o’clock had _finally_ rolled around.

That meant that Phil only had to kill another hour — if that — before Dan showed up. Phil knew Adaline’s train left at quarter to three, and Dan had mentioned that he had a couple of quick errands to run before coming straight to Phil’s.

Phil curled up on the couch to half-heartedly scroll through tumblr and finally, _finally_ , let his mind wander to the topic he’d spent all morning trying to avoid.

Drinks with Dan and Adaline had been wonderful. Getting to see Dan in a different setting, getting to see so many different versions of Dan, had left Phil feeling closer and more infatuated with the boy than ever before. Big Brother Dan and Tipsy Dan and Drunk Dan and Flirty Touchy Dan had all been _enthralling,_ and Phil found himself wanting _more more more._

But that was the thing. 

The warning that Adaline had given Phil, even though it had been paired with a confirmation that Dan _liked_ him, was looming heavily in Phil’s mind. 

Phil was _fine_ with the fact that Dan needed time, and Phil was _ecstatic_ that Dan wanted that time because he was determined to do things _right_ with Phil. 

But knowing that Dan needed _time_ , that he needed _boundaries_ of some sort, terrified Phil. Despite everything Adaline had said, Phil had no idea what those boundaries were. Some things he was sure about — kissing was an obvious _no_ , as was anything beyond kissing. And judging by Adaline’s reaction to Dan climbing over him, anything that included Dan straddling Phil was probably out. Which, okay, fair. Phil had never struggled to keep his hands to himself more than he had in that moment — and at that point in the evening, he hadn’t even had confirmation that Dan _liked_ him. 

But what about everything else? Had Phil unknowingly crossed any lines last night? Was it okay when he’d slipped his hand onto Dan’s knee under the table? Was calling Dan _dear_ too much? How about when he’d pulled Dan in closer on the pavement? Or when he’d let a _very drunk_ Dan kiss him on the cheek?

Phil wondered if they should talk. But he was worried that such an outright conversation, such a blatant acknowledgment of their mutual feelings, would scare Dan away. 

So Phil decided to follow Adaline’s advice. He would let Dan come to him — sober. Whatever sober Dan decided was appropriate, Phil would take without question. And if him and Dan got drunk together again — well, Phil would make sure to stay sober enough that he could keep his wits about him for the both of him. 

The fast, repeated buzzing of his intercom pulled Phil out of his ruminating. Glancing at his phone screen, Phil saw that it was nearly four. _Dan_.

_Well, here it goes,_ Phil thought. Whatever _it_ may be. 

Phil climbed off the sofa and made his way to the front door. He held down then _door open_ button, not bothering to intercom down and make sure it was Dan — Phil didn’t think there was anyone else in the _world_ who would think that ringing the buzzer _that many times_ and _that quickly_ was a good idea.

Giving up on coming across cool and nonchalant, Phil opened his door and leaned up against the doorframe, waiting for Dan. He didn’t have to wait for long — Dan must have taken the stairs instead of the painfully slow lift.

“Hey, Philly,” Dan said with a smile, despite being slightly out of breath. _Definitely the stairs, then_. Dan leaned in and pressed a light kiss to Phil’s cheek. When Dan pulled back, Phil could see the nerves in his eyes, the way his smile looked more tentative. He seemed worried about Phil’s reaction.

Phil exhaled deeply, unable to hold back his sigh of relief. Dan didn’t hate him. However much had happened between them the other night wasn’t _too_ much. Phil hadn’t scared Dan off.

“Come in here, you dork.” Phil smiled back fondly, reaching out to grab Dan’s free hand and tugging him into the flat, taking a step backwards so that Dan had room to stand in the entryway. Dan teetered on his feet, losing his balance and falling forward, crashing through the doorway with more force than was probably intended.

Phil’s grip on Dan’s hand kept him from falling completely, and by the time Dan had righted himself properly, he was stood close enough to Phil that Phil could feel Dan’s breath on his skin. Dan looked up at Phil through thick eyelashes, and Phil felt his breath catch in his throat.

“I’m not a dork,” he whispered, his eyes narrowing and hand staying firmly in Phil’s. Phil noticed his cheeks were notably pink.

“Yes you are,” Phil retorted, his voice quiet enough to match the volume of Dan’s. “But it’s okay, I like you, anyway.”

Phil slid his hand up, rubbing Dan’s elbow fondly. The _boom boom_ of Phil’s heart felt loud in his own ears and he hoped Dan couldn’t hear it too. 

“Good,” Dan chuckled, finally stepping back and breaking the tension between them — a tension Phil was pretty sure had crossed into _sexual_ territory. With a cough, Phil stepped back too, trying to regain his composure. Dan kicked the door shut behind him with an easy movement that Phil wouldn’t have been able to replicate if he’d tried.

His grin was infectious as he said, “Because I brought presents!” 

Dan offered the white paper bag he was holding to Phil. 

“Presents!” Phil exclaimed, happily surprised, taking the bag from Dan. “What is it?”

“Why don’t you open it and find out, you spoon.” Dan grinned, nudging Phil in the side and nodded down to the box. With a smile, Phil toed his foot against Dan’s in a silent recognition of the gesture. 

Phil cracked the bag open, peeking in to see what Dan had brought. Inside was a clear container with four sloppily decorated cupcakes.

“Cupcakes!” Phil cheered. “Thank you, I’m excited to eat them.”

“Adaline and I made them in the middle of the night, sorry they’re kind of… ugly.”

Phil’s mind flooded with images of Dan and Adaline pouring over the cupcakes, probably making a mess of Dan’s kitchen and fucking a few up beyond repair. It made him want to cook with Dan — Domestic Dan was definitely a version of Dan that Phil wanted to see.

“They’re perfect and I love them,” Phil assured Dan, genuinely touched that Dan had decided to bring him cupcakes.

“I’m glad.” Dan kicked off his shoes and shrugged out of his coat. Phil was a little disgruntled that he was holding the cupcakes and couldn’t undo the zipper or slip it off Dan’s arms himself — for some ridiculous reason, he’d come to really like helping Dan out of his coat. Maybe it was just an easy reason to be close to him. Carelessly, Dan chucked the coat on the tiny table by the door before passing Phil and heading into the lounge without any further invitation from Phil. 

Phil liked seeing him like this, seeing Dan at ease in Phil’s home. It gave him hopeful — possibly naive — glances into what his future could be, what a future with _Dan_ could be. If Phil closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander, he could see a world where him and Dan properly shared a space, where they moved around each other naturally. Just like Dan was moving around Phil’s home now, but _more._

Now wasn’t the time to think about that, though.

Phil hadn’t even properly kissed the bloke yet, for fuck’s sake.

As tempting as the cupcakes were, Phil knew he should at least _pretend_ to be a functional adult and wait until after dinner to eat them. He sat the cupcakes down in the kitchen and opened the fridge. There was a bottle of white wine chilling, in addition to an unopened bottle of red on the counter. Phil wasn’t sure which Dan preferred, and he’d wanted to be prepared either way. The wine could wait, though — just until after Phil’s liveshow. Doing his liveshow tipsy was definitely a bad idea. Instead, Phil poured them each a glass of ribena, and followed Dan into the lounge.

Dan had already made himself comfortable, sitting on the sofa with his legs curled up beneath him. His eyes were scanning the room — Phil wondered if Dan could tell that Phil had been doing some deep cleaning in here. 

Setting the drinks down on the coffee table, Phil sat cross-legged on the sofa, facing Dan.

“Someone’s lounge looks tidy.” Dan eyes fell on the much neater tangle of cords beneath the television, before drifting back to Phil with a cheeky smile. “You know, I’ve already been over. I’ve seen how you live. You don’t have to clean because of me.”

_Crap._ So Dan had _definitely_ noticed the cleaning, then.

“Wow, cocky much?” Phil teased, sticking out his tongue immaturely. “I had a day of productivity, and cleaning just _happened_ to be one of the things I did.”

“Right.” Dan rolled his eyes, and flashed Phil a fond and knowing smile. “I believe that.”

Phil shook his head in exasperation, not bothering to deny Dan’s accusation any further. It was kind of true, after all.

“So how was the rest of Adaline’s trip?” Phil asked, switching gears.

“Good!” Dan answered, once he’d taken a sip of his Ribena and settled back into the sofa, just a hair closer to Phil. “We went shopping yesterday — I think I told you that.”

“You mentioned. Did you get anything good?” 

“Neither of us really meant to, we were just window shopping. But we both ended buying something.” Dan shrugged, looking a little chagrined as he shifted, moving his legs out from under him and folding them in front of him. The sudden, warm pressure of Dan’s toes against Phil’s calves startled Phil. At this point, Phil was certain that they didn’t know how to be around each other without being _in each other’s space_ , even if it was just the brush of toes against legs.

Phil liked it.

“Ah, impulse purchases.” Phil nodded knowingly. “I’m familiar with those. Mine are usually pretty dubious, and I end up returning half of them.”

“I know that feel,” Dan chuckled. “Adaline approved my new sweater though, so hopefully it’ll be okay.” Dan blushed a little, but Phil wasn’t sure why. 

Phil eyed him, trying to decide if he wanted push the conversation, to attempt to figure out why Dan was so weirdly flustered by that of all things. But before Phil could make up his mind, Dan continued, changing the subject just as quickly as Phil had changed the previous one.

“Anyway, Philip, how are we going about this Buffy education?” He raised his eyebrows, looking at Phil expectantly.

Phil refrained from shaking his head at Dan’s antics, deciding it was best just to go along with Dan’s subject change.

“From the beginning, obviously,” Phil replied, rolling his eyes. Dan laughed, and shot Phil a fond look, which caught Phil off guard and caused a flustered blush to rise to his cheeks. 

“Okay, then,” Dan said, “We should get started. Aren’t there like six seasons, or something?”

“Seven, actually,” Phil corrected as he stood up to put the dvd into the player.

“Okay, so we’re set on tv to watch together for a while.” 

Phil was glad that his back was to Dan when he said that, because Phil was certain that his cheeks were flushing at Dan’s implication that _this_ , that watching tv together and relaxing at one of their flats, was something that they would keep doing, that it was something that might even become a routine.

When Phil went back to the sofa, he sat himself down closer to Dan. Not as close as they’d ended up last time Dan was here, and not as close as they’d been at the bar the other night. He wasn’t even close enough that they were touching — but he was close enough that they _could_ be touching. Close enough so that Dan could touch Phil if he wanted to.

Phil reclined back, twisting his upper body towards Dan the slightest bit. Just enough so that Dan had an open invitation, so that Dan could lean into Phil if he wanted to, but not _so_ much that it was awkward if Dan didn’t. 

And at first, Dan didn’t. Phil tried not to feel disappointed, because he knew it wasn’t a rejection on his part, but that didn’t mean that Phil wasn’t itching to cuddle with Dan. But Phil wasn’t prioritizing his desires — not right now anyway. He’d give Dan all the space he needed, waiting patiently until Dan did _something_ that suggested he wanted more. But twenty minutes into the first episode, Dan leaned forward to take a drink of his ribena, and when he leaned back, he tucked himself into Phil’s side. 

Phil didn’t want to scare Dan off, but he risked a look at Dan’s face. Dan’s eyes were trained carefully on the tv, almost as if he was deliberately not looking at Phil. Phil could see that his jaw was locked tight, giving away the fact that Dan was nervous about what he’d done.

Feeling more confident it would comfort Dan, as opposed to scare him, Phil wrapped his arm around Dan’s lower back, pulling him in closer. Dan went willingly, letting himself be moved by Phil.

They were quiet for a few minutes, but Phil could still feel tension in Dan’s body — he hadn’t quite _relaxed_ into Phil. Finally, Dan spoke, voicing what must have been on his mind. 

“Is this okay?” he whispered quietly.

Phil’s heart pounded at how tentative, how worried, how small Dan sounded. He pulled Dan closer, held him tighter, hoping to reassure him with his actions.

“Anything you want is okay,” Phil murmured back sincerely.

Between Phil’s words and actions, Dan must have been reassured enough because he practically _melted_ into Phil. The full weight of Dan’s head fell onto Phil’s shoulder, his side pressing more firmly into Phil’s, his knees tipping over and landing in Phil’s lap.

Phil let himself revel in the moment, fully appreciate what holding Dan was like. Phil could smell Dan’s cologne — it was fresh and light, and vaguely reminded Phil of the white cotton candle he had in his bedroom. Soft curls were tickling the underside of Phil’s chin from where Dan had tucked his head in. Dan’s legs were a soft weight, and he had somehow curled all six feet of himself into such a small ball that he felt almost childlike in Phil’s arms.

It was perfect. Phil wanted to live in this moment forever.

Dan stayed in that position for the rest of the episode, plus the second and the beginning of the third. If anything, Dan settled more and _more_ comfortably into Phil as the show progressed. 

The apartment was chilly — Phil had learned the hard way that cheaper rent apparently meant shittier utilities — but with Dan pressed against his side, Phil wasn’t cold. For the first time, Phil was _glad_ that it was cold in his apartment, because it was the perfect excuse to hold Dan even tighter. 

Sometime during the second episode, Phil found the courage to wrap his free arm around Dan’s knees, which were already resting in his lap. Dan nestled in the slightest bit more as Phil began tracing faint lines up and down his clothed shin. The entire scene was so blissfully domestic and comfortable, that Phil was pretty sure they could have been watching a _horror_ movie and he would still be unbelievably ecstatic. 

Ten minutes into the third episode, though, Dan leaned across Phil to grab the remote off the opposite armrest, and paused the show. 

“Be right back,” Dan mumbled quietly, as if speaking at full volume would break the calm, intimate spell that had been cast. And who knows, maybe it would.

Dan left the room without any further explanation, taking both of their empty glasses with him. For lack of anything better to do, and hoping to keep his mind distracted from overthinking whatever was happening between them, Phil pulled out his phone and scrolled through his twitter feed, not engaging with any of the content. In the distance, Phil heard the toilet flushing and the tap running. 

When Dan came back into the room, Phil rested his arm along the top of the sofa, clearly inviting Dan back into his embrace. Dan didn’t sit close, though — he sat at the far end of the sofa, near the armrest.

_Fuck_. Had something happened while Dan was away? Was he suddenly having second thoughts? Phil panicked, worried that he’d done _something_ to mess this up. 

His arm was in the process of falling back to his side when Dan moved again. He didn’t scoot closer, not quite. Instead, he tipped on his side, shifting so that he was laying down, his head in Phil’s lap.

Phil’s hand froze in mid-air, completely taken aback by Dan’s actions. Phil looked down, but like last time Dan had cuddled into Phil, Dan’s eyes were staring straight ahead at the tv. Slowly, tentatively, Phil let his hand fall, coming to rest on Dan’s shoulder. 

“Is this okay?” Dan whispered, just like last time.

It broke Phil’s heart that any part of Dan was concerned whether or not this was okay. Phil wondered if it was just because Dan was afraid of crossing lines with Phil, or if there was something bigger going on. 

Phil couldn’t imagine Isabella being overly receptive to Dan cuddling up to her, particularly if Dan was the one trying to be _cuddled_. From what Phil had pieced together from the media and Dan, Isabella certainly seemed to put serious stock in gender roles — which really made her (failed) relationship with Dan, who seemed to take intentional steps to _break_ gender roles, all the more confusing.

Phil shifted his hand from Dan’s shoulder, and, for a split second, he could feel Dan tense in its absence. But Phil moved his hand up, laying it on Dan’s head, running his fingers through his hair. Dan relaxed, his entire body going limp. 

“I told you, anything you want is okay, dear. You’re in charge here.”

Dan’s head nodded so imperceptibly that if it hadn’t been in Phil’s lap, Phil would have missed it. But Phil hoped that meant that Dan understood what Phil was trying to say — that anything Dan wanted to give him was _fine_ , that Phil was letting Dan set the pace for _everything_ , that Phil wasn’t going to do _anything_ first.

Confident that Dan felt comfortable enough to stay, Phil started to withdraw his hand from Dan’s head, planning to move it back to his shoulder, maybe even loop it around his waist. But Phil only managed to pull his hand back a few centimeters before Dan’s hand was flying up, fumbling behind himself for Phil’s hand, and leading it back to his head.

A wide, goofy smile spread on Phil’s face, and he was eternally glad that Dan wasn’t looking up at him. The action carried more weight than anything Dan could have said: Dan wanted Phil to touch him — wanted it badly enough that he was willing to take charge and ask for it. The silent plea for affection warmed Phil’s heart, and he was more than happy to comply.

Phil carded his hand through Dan’s hair. It was inexplicably soft and there was _so much_ of it. Now that Phil had explicit permission to touch Dan’s hair, he couldn’t stop himself from twisting the curls around his fingers, pulling them slightly and watching them bounce back into place. Phil brushed a stray curl from Dan’s eyes, gently massaging his head. Dan let out a small, content sigh, his breath fanning across Phil’s legs.

So Dan liked to have his hair played with.

Phil was fairly certain that there was nothing cuter than that in the entire world. 

As the episode continued, Dan’s breathing slowed, gradually becoming more steady. Careful not to disturb Dan, Phil leaned forward the slightest bit so that he could see Dan’s face. As he suspected, Dan’s eyes were closed, his lips gently parted, completely asleep.

He looked so soft, so young, so beautiful. Phil couldn’t even find it in himself to be annoyed at Dan for falling asleep during Buffy, not when it was this precious.

Phil stayed in that position, running his hands through Dan’s curls, watching an episode of Buffy that he’d already seen a million times, and would surely have to watch again later tonight so Dan knew what happened. He stayed, savoring the moment, until his phone reminder _dinged_ , warning him that it was ten to seven, meaning he needed to get ready for his liveshow. 

This moment was so soft, so unlike any other moment they had shared, that Phil was reluctant to break it. 

“Sleepyhead?” Phil asked quietly, his hand moving a little more insistently through Dan’s hair. “I need to get up now, dear.”

Dan didn’t move. His eyes didn’t even flutter.

Phil sighed. Dan looked so peaceful like this that Phil didn’t want to have to wake him up with a rough shove of his shoulder, or a loud shout of his name. The clock on his phone was creeping closer and closer to seven o’clock, though, and if Phil had any hope of being on time, he needed to move _now_ so that he could get started setting up. Preparing to gently shake Dan awake, Phil pulled his hand from Dan’s hair, and reached for his shoulder. Before he could nudge Dan, Dan seemed to wake up on his own — the loss of Phil’s touch seemed to be enough to stir him from slumber.

This boy was going to be the death of him, Phil was positive.

“Wah?” Dan mumbled unintelligently.

“I have to do my liveshow, now,” Phil told him gently, letting his hand drift back to Dan’s hair now that he was awake.

“But I’m comfortable.” Dan wiggled a little, nudging his head pointedly against Phil’s thigh.

Phil chuckled softly, unable to contain his amusement at how adorable this sleepy version of Dan was. “I’ll come back as soon as I’m done, I promise I won’t stream long and then we can have dinner, okay?”

Dan wrapped his arm around Phil’s legs, loosely holding him in place. “Don’t leave.” There was absolutely no strength to his grip, but Phil had never felt _less_ inclined to move in his life.

He needed to though. It was far too late to cancel his liveshow now.

Phil’s other hand, the one that wasn’t tangled in Dan’s hair, came up to grip the hand that Dan was holding onto Phil’s leg with. Phil lightly pried the hand off his leg, linking Dan’s fingers with his own, and gently moving the hand back to Dan’s chest. “I can’t very well livestream with you on my lap, can I?”

Dan finally moved, rolling over so that he was gazing up at Phil through half-lidded eyes. Phil could tell that sleep was tugging at him. 

“I mean you _could_ ,” Dan whined petulantly. There was a scratchiness to his voice, probably from sleep, that ruined his ability to pout properly, but Phil found it all the more endearing.

“And where am I going to put the laptop, silly?” Phil ruffled Dan’s hair, shaking him slightly. “Your head?”

“Ugh, fine.” Dan relented, raising up on his elbows just far enough to allow Phil to slip out from underneath him. Phil was barely free from Dan’s hold before Dan collapsed back down, staring up with giant, puppy dog eyes. He looked disgruntled, and annoyed, and _gorgeous_. “I get to pick where we order food from,” Dan said sternly.

“Deal,” Phil agreed. “Now go back to sleep and I’ll wake you up when I’m done. I’ll be in my bedroom.” Phil turned to leave, but didn’t make it far. Without moving his body, Dan had caught Phil’s hand in his own, tugging Phil back towards the sofa lightly. “Yes, Dan?” Phil asked, amused.

Dan pulled softly on Phil’s hand again. “Stay in here at least?” Dan looked up at Phil hopefully. 

Staying in the lounge didn’t seem like the best option to Phil. If he stayed, Phil wasn’t sure what would be worse — inadvertently keeping Dan awake, or Dan _choosing_ to stay awake and watching from across the room.

Ever perceptive, Dan seemed to sense Phil’s hesitation. His grip tightened and he tugged a bit more forcefully. The sudden pull knocked Phil off balance, causing him to nearly tumble to the sofa — right on top of Dan. At the last second, Phil managed to catch himself on the back of the sofa. He was still standing, just barely.

It was easy — _far_ too easy — to imagine what it would be like if he _wasn’t_ still standing. If he were on top of Dan for reasons other than poor coordination.

Bad. Bad, bad, bad.

Phil cleared the thoughts with an actual shake of his head. “I don’t want to keep you awake,” he murmured, his heart beating far faster than normal, and pulled his hand out of Dan’s and pushing off the sofa so he could stand again.

Dan stuck his bottom lip out, pouting exaggeratedly and flashing Phil his best puppy dog eyes. Truthfully, Phil didn’t think it would take much to convince him to stay with Dan, but he wasn’t about to tell _Dan_ that. Phil knew he would feel less disruptive — and less awkward — if he just did his liveshow from his bedroom, but Dan was looking up at him with giant brown eyes peeking out beneath long dark eyelashes, and his plump lips were in the sexiest pout Phil had ever seen and — 

_Shit_. 

The puppy dog look was working. Phil felt his resolve crumble. 

“Fine,” Phil relented, shaking his head at both of their antics. “Let me get my laptop, I’ll be back.”

God, Phil really would give into anything this boy wanted, wouldn’t he?

Phil glanced at the time and realized that he was supposed to be live in two minutes. That definitely wasn’t going to happen. _Oh well._

When Phil came back to the lounge, Dan had rolled back onto his side, his head burrowed in the pillow that he must have grabbed from the end of the sofa. Phil couldn’t resist stopping by Dan on his way to the chair, where he was planning to sit for his show. Knowing he was late anyway, Phil spared a brief moment to run his hand through Dan’s hair again. His audience could wait. This boy, who was curled up delicately on his couch was far more important than punctuality.

“You came back,” Dan mumbled, eyes closed and lips barely moving.

“Of course, I told you I would.” Phil lingered for a moment, his hand still nestled in Dan’s curls, his thumb slowly dragging back and forth. Dan looked beautiful laying on Phil’s sofa, his head tilting into the light pressure of Phil’s hand.

Phil wanted to kiss him. Well, Phil _always_ wanted to kiss him, but in that moment, staring down at Dan, the urge to kiss him was almost irresistible. But Phil had decided to follow Dan’s lead, to take whatever Dan decided to offer him. Kissing Dan was off limits.

Or at least, kissing him on the _lips_ was off limits. 

So far, Dan had kissed Phil on the cheek — twice — and once on the forehead. Surely, _surely_ , Phil was allowed this. Surely Phil could kiss Dan somewhere else and it would be fine.

Hoping for the best, Phil leaned forward slowly and pressed his lips lightly to Dan’s temple. Dan didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Phil was beginning to think that Dan had fallen back asleep until he pulled away and saw that Dan’s eyes were still closed, but his mouth was pulled into the softest, sweetest smile Phil had ever seen. Smushed against the couch, Phil could see a hint of Dan’s giant dimple and, _fuck_. This boy was perfect. “I’ll wake you when I’m done,” Phil whispered.

Phil walked backwards to his chair, not wanting to take his eyes off Dan. The faint smile on his face lasted the entire time that Phil crossed the lounge, all the way until Phil sat down, turned on his computer, opened his google doc, and loaded the younow website. The last remnants of the smile were still pulling at Dan’s lips when Phil clicked the button to go live.

“Hey guys!” Phil greeted, watching as the view count slowly started to rise, and shouting out names as they scrolled across his screen in order to greet them, the way he always did when he went live. “I’m happy to see you all and spend some of Sunday night together!”

It wasn’t a complete lie. Although, he _would_ be more glad to be spending his hour beneath the curly brunette on his sofa. Even if it meant staring into space, doing absolutely nothing but playing with Dan’s bouncy hair.

Phil’s comment seemed to go ignored, however. From the moment Phil tweeted the link to his show, comments flowed in about Phil’s location. Since moving to London, he’d done every live show from his couch. 

Every. Single. One. 

But today, he was in the chair, facing an angle of the lounge that his viewers had never seen before. There was a bookshelf behind him that they hadn’t had the opportunity to inspect — a fact that didn’t elude Phil, and he quickly ran through a mental list of its contents to make sure it didn’t contain anything too personal. He was pretty sure that his viewers could see out of his window too — meaning that the most dedicated of fans could probably piece together some information about his street if they tried hard enough. But the sofa was well spoken for, and Dan had made Phil promise to not leave the lounge so… here Phil was on the chair, whatever the consequences may be.

Phil’s eyes flitted over the chat, the comments about the location change sticking out and grabbing Phil attention. People were asking if Phil was still in his lounge, commenting on the previously-unseen stuff behind him, and asking _why_ he was in a different location.

Phil opted to ignore all of the comments about his change in locale, and instead jumped straight into the pre-planned topics written out on his google doc.

He hinted at the video he’d filmed this morning, reassuring his fans that he’d get it edited and posted sometime around Tuesday or Wednesday, reviewed highlights from his last radio show, and even got into a silly review of the restaurant him and PJ had gone to yesterday. He showed everyone the pictures he had taken, as well as told the story about the waiter hitting on PJ.

Eventually, however, the chat became dominated by questions about his recent tweets with Dan, the Isabella break up, and his new background. In Phil’s mind, the new background seemed like the safest question. He had _no_ idea what to say about drinks with Dan, seeing as that had been such a flirty, fun, _wonderful_ disaster, _or_ about the Isabella rumors.

Besides, drinks had occurred just _one day_ after Dan had broken up with Isabella, something everyone was still speculating about. Phil didn’t want to open that can of worms if he could avoid it. 

“Some of you have noticed I’m in front of the other bookshelf in my lounge,” Phil said, unable to keep a smidge of humor out of his tone. He craned his head over his shoulder, taking in what there was on the shelf. It was mainly an assortment of board games, as well as a few family pictures and vacation souvenirs.

“I like this one a lot, it has a lot of stuff I’ve gotten while traveling, and gifts and such. How do you guys like it?” Phil continued, looking back at the camera. 

The chat started to move faster again, asking questions about the knick knacks on Phil’s bookshelf started streaming in.

“AnaBanana asks where the weird astronaut figurine came from. I got that from when went to Kennedy Space Center in Florida last year. Jake98 asks what my favorite game is.” Phil glanced behind himself at the board games on the self. “Honestly, I think it’s some of the games I’ve made up and play with my friends, but of the one’s on my shelf, probably Catan.”

Phil scanned the chat for another question to read. A lot — like, _a lot_ — of them were asking _why_ he’d changed scenery. The more time that passed, and the more Phil tried to avoid it, the more it seemed his viewers were determined to get an answer. At this point, Phil had done enough live shows that the knew the topic in the chat wouldn’t easily change unless he finally fucking _addressed_ it.

So fine, he’d address it.

Given all of their tweeting, especially the picture from Friday night, it didn’t seem like Dan was _too_ uptight about how close him and Phil seemed in their fans eyes. Hopefully, whatever Phil ended up saying wouldn’t be too much for Dan.

“A bunch of you — sorry, there are too many names to pick one — are asking why I’m in my chair, instead of on my sofa. Well —” Phil spun the computer around so that it faced the other half of the lounge. “I’ve got a sleeping Daniel Howell on my sofa, so there wasn’t too much of an option _but_ to relocate.”

Phil turned the computer back to himself, and noticed that, unsurprisingly, there were _more_ questions in the chat than there had been a few minutes ago — a lot of which were questions he wasn’t willing to answer. But there were at least some that gave him something to talk about. Something that was honest, but not too revealing.

“Sammi asks what Dan is doing here. Would you believe that he’s never seen Buffy?” Phil asked, eyes scanning the chat as the messages slowly moved from questions about Dan, to reactions to Phil’s explanation. “I don’t think I can be friends with anyone who hasn’t watched Buffy, so I insisted that he come over and watch some with me.”

As Phil read over the messages, he found that they were fairly evenly split between people who were appalled at Dan’s lack of culture, and people who were confessing their own ignorance. 

“Those of you who’re saying you haven’t seen Buffy, shame on you!” Phil scolded playfully. “I don’t think it’s on UK netflix anymore, though. AmazingAbby asks what Dan thinks of Buffy so far. I actually don’t know. He fell asleep before we got the chance to talk about it.”

A flutter of movement across the room caught Phil’s eyes. He looked up just in time to see Dan shifting, rolling onto his stomach and pulling the pillow in closer. 

_Precious_. 

With more effort than it should have taken, Phil ripped his eyes from Dan’s sleeping form, and returned his attention to his livestream, looking for another appropriate question. 

“Daniella asks if I’m annoyed that he fell asleep during my favorite show.” Phil chuckled. “I probably would be, except I know he’s had a long weekend, and that him and his sister were up late making cupcakes last night.”

Phil glanced over at the sofa, and, sure, he wasn’t angry because he knew Dan had had a late night. But the fact of the matter was, Phil probably wouldn’t have been angry under _any_ circumstance, because he was having a hell of a hard time envisioning any reason to ever be mad at Dan.

“He brought some of the cupcakes,” Phil continued, for lack of something better to say. “Maybe I’ll tweet a picture of them when we eat them — if he’ll let me, that is. He claims that they’re ugly, but I like them. I think it’s cute how hard he tried.”

On the sofa, Dan stirred again — hearing his name must have roused him from his sleep. Rather than just shifting, though, Dan pushed the pillow away, and raised up to his elbows. With bleary eyes, Dan gazed at Phil for a moment, as if he were trying to take in what was happening. 

Dan gave Phil a small wave, still looking soft and drowsy from his nap. 

For a moment, Phil got lost in Dan’s eyes, relishing the opportunity to see him in this state, and forgot he was live. It wasn’t until Dan moved again, rolling over and sluggishly grabbing his phone from the table, that Phil remembered he had an audience of more than ten thousand people. 

Phil’s attention snapped back to his computer. Vaguely, he registered that there were a few comments asking what had caught his attention, or if Dan was doing something. Phil ignored them for the time being, his attention snapping away again when Dan spoke. 

“I’m ordering food,” he whispered, not particularly quietly.

Glancing at the clock, Phil realized he only had twenty minutes left of his liveshow — and that was if he didn’t cut it short. Now that Dan was awake, Phil was keen to wrap up so that they could get back to their evening together. 

And eat dinner. Phil was _starving_.

But wait — Dan was the guest. Phil should at least _try_ to pay. 

Before Dan could get too far, Phil pulled his phone out of his pocket, typing in the passcode, and pulling up the food delivery app, which already had his card attached. “Here,” Phil chucked the phone towards Dan — his aim was crap, but it landed near Dan’s head on the cushion anway. “I’m the host, use my phone.”

Everything that Phil had learned about Dan so far had taught Phil that Dan was generous with his money — maybe bordering on _too_ generous — so he was shocked when Dan picked up his phone and starting typing. 

“Indian okay?” Dan asked.

“Sounds good. You can pick whatever, though. I owe you.” Phil replied, ignoring the chat. 

When he turned back, he was immediately overwhelmed by the onslaught of messages. A lot of themwere just keyboard smashes, mixed in with comments saying Dan and Phil were _domestic_ and _just like a cute couple_. Panicking, because he hadn’t addressed his audience in far too long, Phil searched for _something_ he could read out.

Phil blindly read out the first message he could find that seemed to be an actual question. “Sandy asks why I owe Dan.” Phil chuckled awkwardly. “He was disgruntled that I had to wake him up and move him so I could do my liveshow.”

The potential implications of Phil’s words caught up with his brain a second too late. He’d already shown that Dan was completely sprawled across the couch, and Phil was very clearly streaming in a different location. What valid reason was there for moving _Dan_ , unless they were in a compromising position?

Phil glanced up at Dan with a look of alarm in his eyes — an expression that was probably far more telling than Phil’s words had been — only to find Dan staring back at him with an amused smirk. 

Phil’s eyes flickered back to the chat, frantically trying to find something else to read out and answer.

“Why’d you have to move Dan? Er —” Phil stumbled for a moment, trying to find a good explanation for that. Fuck, _fuck_. He was so fucking flustered that he’d read out the _exact_ question that he didn’t want to answer. 

Luckily, Dan saved Phil from his floundering. What Dan did, though, was completely unexpected.

“Phii _iilll_ ,” Dan whined, pushing off the couch and trekking across the room. “I locked your phone and I need your thumb.” 

Phil watched with appraising eyes as Dan ventured towards his chair, deliberately clicking the power button and locking the phone on his way. For a second, Phil was confused as to _why_ Dan was carrying out the pretense so far — until Dan stopped and stood right in front of him. 

Behind the camera, Dan pointed to the armrest of the chair with raised eyebrows, silently asking Phil’s permission to sit down. Sure, Dan had done liveshows of his own, but Phil didn’t expect Dan to be okay with — to _want_ — to join Phil’s. Not right now anyway. Phil didn’t need to think about it though — for him, there was nothing to hide with Dan. For all Phil cared, viewers could interpret their actions however the hell they wanted. And if Dan was fine with sitting on the armrest of Phil’s chair during a liveshow, then Phil was too. 

Phil slid over in his chair slightly, making a hair more room for Dan, silently answering Dan’s question. Dan hopped into the frame, settling onto the armrest, his shoulder pressing gently against Phil’s. He gave a small, two fingered wave to the camera, but didn’t otherwise acknowledge Phil’s audience.

“Give me your hand,” Dan ordered, reaching out and pulling Phil’s hand towards himself. Dan maneuvered Phil’s hand so that he was holding Phil’s thumb, and pressed it to the home button. Dan held Phil’s finger in place a few seconds longer than necessary, stroking his thumb against Phil’s once, twice, before finally letting it drop.

Shit. Fuck. The camera.

Phil ripped his attention from Dan and forced himself to look back at the screen. The chat was going _wild_ , and Phil was just trying to compose himself before he started talking again.

“I’m ordering a feast,” Dan continued when Phil was silent for too long, saving Phil _again_. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Sounds great, I’m starved,” Phil replied, reading through the messages on the screen. He knew saying _something_ about Dan’s sudden appearance was necessary. He looked for the safest message. _Buffy_. That was pretty tame. “People what to know what your verdict is on Buffy, Dan.”

Dan didn’t look up from Phil’s phone, but he answered. “She’s badass. I can see why you had such a crush on her.”

Phil almost choked on his own spit. Whatever he’d been expecting Dan to say, it hadn’t been that. Dan flashed him an impish smile and Phil could tell that Dan was teasing him, maybe even testing him to see what Phil would say on live video. 

Two could play at that game. 

“Who could blame me! She’s such an amazing girl. What do you think about her?”

“I have to admit, I see the appeal. I’m jealous.” Dan held Phil’s gaze for a minute — and whatever Dan was implying that he was jealous of, Phil was pretty certain it had to do more with Phil’s attraction than anything else. “She’s got an exciting life,” Dan finished, a beat too late, and looked back at the phone. Out of the corner of his eye, Phil saw the _order completed_ screen load.

“She does.” Phil agreed. “Plus, she gets to make out with David Boreanaz, so I’d say she’s pretty lucky.”

Dan cocked his head. “Wait, who’s David Boratease?”

“ _Boreanaz_ ,” Phil corrected. “He plays Angel.”

Dan’s cheeks flushed bright red — redder than Phil had ever seen them — but he was smiling widely and laughing loudly. “Philip —” Dan slapped Phil’s shoulder. “Michael —” another slap. “Lester!” _slap_. “How dare you? You know how I feel about spoilers!” Dan screamed indignantly.

Phil caught Dan’s flailing hand and pinned it down to his lap, but he was unable to stop giggling long enough to muster up an apologetic expression. “Come on, you _knew_ it was coming.”

Dan rolled his eyes. Of course — Phil had forgotten that Dan didn’t care if a spoiler was something obvious or predictable. To Dan, a spoiler was a spoiler, and they were all mortal sins.

“You know, I was going to be nice and raid your kitchen for dinner supplies while you finished your liveshow, but just for that, I’m making you do it.” Dan snatched his hand from under Phil’s and started moving the computer mouse. “Say goodbye to your audience, Phil. I’m forcing you to hang up now.”

Dan hovered over the _end show_ button for a moment, giving Phil the opportunity to call out some names — or knock his hand away and derail his plan, if Phil wanted to.

Phil didn’t. Not exactly

“Bye Sarah, bye Nick, bye Jasmine!” Phil read out, making his voice playfully frantic.

“Be good everyone,” Dan added. “Relax. Hydrate. Pet a dog,” he said, and before too much time could pass, making it obvious this was just a ploy to end the show, Dan clicked the _end_ button and abruptly closed the laptop, not waiting for the website to shutdown properly.

Phil fully expected Dan to get up, to lead them into the kitchen, or even to yell at Phil for making such a mess of things, but instead, Dan sat the laptop on the coffee table and swung his legs across Phil’s lap.

“I can’t _believe_ you just spoiled that for me!” Dan cried, voice still risen.

Naturally, Phil let his hands rest on Dan’s knees. A part of him was surprised by Dan’s choice of conversation, but the other part of him was offended by Dan’s offense. “It’s not that big of a spoiler! You _know_ they like each other.”

“Still!” Dan whined. “You ruined the whole _will they, won’t they_ thing.”

“Sorry, dear,” Phil apologized without any conviction, grinning at Dan. “If you move, I’ll pour you an apology drink,” he offered.

“No,” Dan huffed. “I’m tired, and lazy, and I’m not moving until the food comes.” As if to prove his point, Dan slid down a little, seating himself more firmly in Phil’s lap, and tucking his head into the crook of Phil’s neck.

Whatever Phil was expecting Dan to do, it wasn’t that. Sure, Dan had been cuddling into Phil more and more as the weeks passed, but right now there was an actual _reason_ to get up, and Dan was still procrastinating.

“Oh wow,” Phil deadpanned. “What a harsh punishment. However will I live.” 

Phil felt, more than heard, Dan giggle into his neck. “Shut up, Philly.”

Giggling, Phil wrapped arm around Dan’s waist, and let a comfortable silence wash over them. And for a few minutes, Phil did shut up. But sitting in the silence, with Dan tucked into his lap, after having just crashed Phil’s liveshow, left Phil’s mind to wander. 

He was _terrified_ of scaring Dan off. But Phil was worried that there might be worse consequences if they didn’t discuss at least a few things — namely their public images. 

Phil knew Dan wasn’t _out_ , and he had no idea if Dan had any intentions of _coming out_. And even if Dan _did_ plan to come out, he had kept all of his relationships before Isabella quiet. Making the wrong move in the public eye could have much bigger, much more _real_ , consequences for Dan, and Phil didn’t want to screw things up for him. 

Phil took a deep breath. He didn’t _want_ to force Dan to talk.

But they _needed_ to.

“Dan?” Phil asked tentatively. 

Dan hummed questioningly, but didn’t pull back from Phil’s neck. 

“I don’t want—“ Phil cut himself off. “I know that—“ _Shit_. How the hell was he supposed to start this kind of conversation? Especially when, for all intents and purposes, he and Dan weren’t even currently _dating_? “Can we talk?” he settled on.

It was the most cliche opening Phil could have thought of, but it seemed to work. Dan immediately shot up from where he’d been leaned against Phil, tearing his head from Phil’s neck and sitting up ramrod straight. There was a spark of terror in his eyes and — oh shit. 

Phil should have realized how Dan might interpret those words. They were the cliche warning for _I’m about to dump you._

“What’s wrong?” Dan blurted out, a note of fear in his voice. 

“Nothing bad, nothing bad,” Phil reassured him so quickly that he spoke over the end of Dan’s question. 

“Okay…” Dan sounded wary. His fingers were vigorously tapping against his thigh, and, briefly, Phil wondered if they were tapping out a tune. But more than that, Phil wanted to reach out and still Dan’s agitated hands. Dan swallowed thickly. “I’m listening.”

“It’s just… I think it’s important for me to know what you want.” Phil searched Dan’s face for some indication of how he was reacting the moment the words were out of his mouth. 

The hand that had been tapping was frozen in mid-tap, two fingers hovering centimeters off Dan’s thigh. The blinding terror from before had dulled to just a small glimmer, but other than that, Phil had no idea what Dan was thinking. 

Phil took a deep breath and finished, expressing the worry that had been eating away at him since Friday night. “I don’t want to cross any lines. I don’t want to fuck up.” 

“Oh.” Dan looked surprised, and maybe a little relieved. But Phil was almost certain that there was a small smile tugging at his lips — as if he was… _pleased?_ that Phil was scared of messing up. “Fuck what up?” Dan prompted when Phil didn’t continue. 

“Well, I’m nervous about a lot of things, but I think most importantly, we should talk about what we are like… publicly. Because whatever we do there, we can’t take back. Once it’s out there, it’s out there.” 

The fear etched on Dan’s face was back. “Fuck. Did _I_ fuck up? I’m so sorry if I took things too far.” 

“No!” Phil rushed to reassure him. “Nothing you’ve done has been too much for me. But I want to make sure that _I_ don't do anything that is too much for _you_.”

“Oh,” Dan repeated, shock etched on his features. Phil thought Dan looked much too surprised that someone was taking into consideration _his_ wants — just when Phil though Isabella couldn’t have been any shittier, too . “Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re right. That’s probably a good conversation to have.” 

Phil idly rubbed his thumb back and forth across Dan’s knee, which was still thrown across his lap. “You’re not out.” 

The unspoken question was obvious. _Do you want to be?_

“Not publicly, no. I’m not.” Dan’s gaze fell to his lap as he fiddled with the hem of his sweater. “I’m, um, not really planning on it either. Not right now at least.” He glanced back up, just for a second, before averting his eyes downward again. “But you are. Or at least, you’ve made it clear that you’re _interested_ in guys. I mean, you’ve made it very clear you find at least a few male celebrities attractive — I mean, I definitely see what you find hot about David _Whatever_. But like, you’ve made that clear. Publicly.”

“I have,” Phil confirmed. 

“I understand if it’s not okay with you that I _don’t_ want to do that,” Dan nearly whispered. 

Phil squeezed Dan’s knee, shaking it a little to encourage him to look up. “I already told you, you’re in charge. I’m okay with whatever you want.” 

“Really?” Dan didn’t sound convinced. 

Taking a risk, Phil let his hand slide up from Dan’s knee, coming to rest halfway up his thigh. “Really, really. So talk to me, tell me what the boundaries are. Surely you’ve seen the shipping…” 

A small smirk ghosted across Dan’s face. He definitely had seen it, then. “It’d be impossible not to.” Dan chuckled. “I guess that… whatever is between us is pretty obvious.” 

“I like you,” Phil murmured. “A lot.” 

“I… same,” Dan sighed, looking down again. “I just need some _time_ before I can give you more than just, well, _this_.” Dan motioned vaguely to their positions. 

Phil moved his hand from Dan’s thigh to his chin, gently forcing him to look up. His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, turning a deep red from the force of his bite. Phil tugged at it lightly with his thumb, making Dan release his grip. His finger rested on Dan for a moment, stroking back and forth, slowly dragging against the chapped lip. Phil watched Dan’s eyes flicker down to Phil’s had, only to shift back up and meet Phil’s gaze through his lashes. The urge to kiss Dan pulled at Phil — just as it always did — but Phil bit it back. He’d wait. “Take all of the time you need, Dan. I’ll be right here.” Phil dropped his hand back down to Dan’s leg. 

Dan reached out, linking his fingers with Phil’s, squeezing softly. With a smile, Phil tightened his grip, holding Dan’s hand more firmly. “Thanks. You’re wonderful.” 

“I think you mean _amazing_.” Phil winked — or he tried to, at least. He was rubbish at winning and he was pretty sure it came out more as a violent wink than anything, but Dan didn’t seem to find it too weird. 

Dan threw his head back, laughing loudly and exposing his long, gorgeous neck. “Of course,” Dan agreed, looking back at Phil. “How could I forget?” 

Phil desperately wanted to let everything go, to hold onto this teasing, light mood. But he hadn’t exactly gotten answers — not the ones he needed most, anyway. “Speaking of AmazingPhil…” he prompted.

“Yeah,” Dan sighed, knowing what Phil was getting at. “I’m not a hundred percent sure myself, to be honest. I don’t mind the shipping. No one is going to ship us if… they’re homophobic or whatever. But the second anything more is _confirmed_ , it will be all over. There will be so many more people to deal with. I’m terrified of the media debating my sexuality, or people arguing that Isabella was a coverup, or forcing me into being _just_ a gay musician.” 

“I get it,” Phil traced his fingers up and down Dan’s thigh in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “So things that may fuel shipping are fine, but anything more explicit than hinting is off limits?” Phil tried to clarify. 

“Yeah, I think so.” Dan nodded slowly, looking like he was still trying to process what Phil was saying. “That sounds good.” 

“Let’s just talk, yeah?” Phil ducked his head a bit so he could look dan in the eye, rubbing his hand against Dan’s with a bit more insistence. “I’ll try to let you know before I do anything that might be too much and you _always_ have the right to stop me.” 

A slow smile spread across Dan’s face, and he looked more confident than he had the whole conversation. “Okay. Thanks.” 

The door buzzer saved either of them from having to awkwardly try to change the conversation — for which Phil was immensely grateful. The noise startled Dan, who jumped in Phil’s lap, nearly crashing their heads together. 

But rather than saying anything, or lingering any longer, Dan hopped off the chair and offered his hand to Phil. Phil let Dan pull him up, doing his best to steady himself before he crashed into Dan. He wobbled for a second, bracing himself with a hand on Dan’s shoulder.

They needed to _move_ — the delivery person was not going to wait around just so Phil could savor another moment in Dan’s space.

“I’ll go get the food, you open the wine?” Phil offered. 

“Perfect.” 

As Phil moved from the lounge, Dan followed after him. 

“Where’s the wine?” 

Phil slipped into his house shoes — the hall was usually kind of gross. “There’s white in the fridge, red on the counter. Your choice.” 

Dan didn’t respond. Phil could hear him heading into the kitchen as Phil ducked out of his flat, leaving the door cracked behind him so he didn’t have to find his keys. Rather than waiting for the lift, Phil ran down the flight of stairs — he’d made the person wait long enough already.

By the time Phil got downstairs, he realized that Dan hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he was ordering a feast. The delivery girl handed Phil not one, not two, but _three_ bags of food. 

Phil certainly wasn’t complaining. He was _ravenous_.

He took the bags and signed the receipt, making sure to tip just as generously as Dan normally did. Ladened down with food, Phil waited for the lift this time. There was no way Phil was climbing four flights of stairs while carrying three _heavy_ bags of Indian food. 

The entire lift ride, the smell of the Indian food taunted Phil. Whatever Dan had ordered smelled _great_. 

After what felt like _ages_ , the lift doors parted and Phil stepped out onto his floor. Eager to finally be so close to eating, Phil scurried down the hallway and kicked his house shoes off as he entered his flat, closing the door behind him with his arse. Phil bypassed the kitchen and went straight to the lounge, hoping that Dan hadn’t forgotten anything they needed for dinner. 

In the lounge, Phil found Dan seated on the floor, wedged between the sofa and the coffee table. Spread before him were plates, silverware, and napkins, as well as two glasses of wine that were filled a bit fuller than customary. 

Red wine. 

Thank _god_. 

Phil secretly _hated_ white wine, but he’d bought some, just in case that was what Dan preferred. For Dan, Phil would probably suffer through just about anything, including disgusting white wine.

“I’m glad you picked red,” Phil confessed, nodding to their wine glasses as he unpacked the bags of food. “I don’t like white very much.” 

“Why the hell do you have it, then?” Dan asked, helping with the food by taking the lid off each container Phil sat down, and placing them down on the coffee table in a neat row. 

Phil felt his cheeks coloring, and tried to casually hide his face behind the empty paper bag, making a big ordeal of folding it, but he had the sneaking suspicion that Dan could see his pink cheeks anyway. “I wasn’t sure what kind you liked best.” 

The only consolation was that Dan’s cheeks turned as pink as Phil’s. Dan, however, covered up his fluster better than Phil, letting out a loud chuckle and shaking his head. “Well, Philly, I _abhor_ white wine, so you can stopping buying it on my behalf.” 

Phil laughed, too. It was a bit cheesy, but Phil liked that they were so compatible with absolutely _everything_ — right down to their taste in wine. It made everything feel so easy. Natural.

“Brilliant.” Phil beamed. “What am I going to do with that bottle, though?” 

“Fuck if I know,” Dan shrugged, still giggling a little. “Cook?” he suggested weakly. 

“Right,” Phil scoffed. “Because I’m a fancy enough cook to know how to cook with wine.” 

“Next time I come over,” Dan said as he scooped a bit from each container onto his plate, carefully placing the food neatly back in the line. “We can figure out something to cook instead of doing takeaway. It will be an adventure.” 

“Deal,” Phil agreed, taking the serving spoon from Dan’s hand and filling up his own plate, setting the containers down wherever there was room. Dan followed behind Phil, shifting the boxes back into a neat line. 

They ate until they were stuffed, and then they ate just a little bit more. Dan asked about the rest of Phil’s liveshow, which led to a slightly less dramatic retelling of the flirty waiter story, as well as a very accurate description of his slime mess — there was no underselling how much of a _trainwreck_ that had been.

After they’d eaten as much as they could, Phil put the lids back on the takeaway containers and piled them into the fridge. While he was in the kitchen, Phil refilled both of their glasses of wine, and swiped the container of cupcakes from the counter. 

When Phil got back to the lounge, he saw that Dan had wiped down the table as best as he could, and moved to sit on the couch. Phil handed Dan their wines and sat the cupcakes on the coffee table, leaving them there until their food settled. Dan waited until Phil was settled on the sofa before handing him his wine and curling into his side. Relieved that Dan was relaxing and growing more assertive, Phil smiled softly and pulled Dan in closer. 

The wine must be helping, loosening Dan’s inhibitions some. Phil silently vowed that this would be his last glass, and he would drink it slowly. Phil had promised Adaline that he would let Dan — _sober_ Dan — set the pace. If Dan was going to be drunk and flirty, Phil definitely needed to stay sober enough to resist. There was no chaperone this time.

They stayed that way, curled closely together on Phil’s sofa, until their wine was empty and the next episode finished. Dan took Phil’s empty wine glass from his hand and leaned forward to sit them both on the table. Phil expected Dan to come back with the cupcakes, but when Dan leaned back, he laid his head in Phil’s lap again, his hand immediately seeking Phil’s and pulling it to his head — not that Phil needed any extra encouragement to play with Dan’s curls. 

Barely twenty minutes into the next episode, Dan was asleep again. 

Phil glanced at the time on his phone — it was rapidly approaching midnight. It would be cruel to make Dan trek back to his apartment at this hour, especially since he was so clearly exhausted. Phil made the executive decision that Dan would stay. If Dan wasn’t already asleep, Phil would insist that Dan take his bed and Phil sleep on the sofa, but Phil feared that making the boy move would be more disruptive than a night’s sleep on his mediocre sofa. 

Dan must have been sleeping much more heavily than before, because this time, Dan didn’t wake when Phil removed his hand from Dan’s curls, nor when Phil lifted Dan by the shoulders and wiggled out from beneath him. 

From the floor, Phil picked up the discarded fluffy blanket and draped it across Dan, making sure to cover his entire long body. Dan’s phone, which had fallen to the floor at some point, caught Phil’s eye. Phil picked it up and tapped the home button, lighting up the screen. The battery was only on fifteen percent, which would definitely not survive the night.

Doing his best to keep the phone in Dan’s line of vision, Phil plugged Dan’s phone into his spare charger by the sofa, turning the volume up a few notches, just in case there was an important alarm set.

Not for the first time that night, Phil stared down at Dan, completely in awe at the beautiful boy sprawled across his sofa. Phil had no idea how he’d gotten so lucky that someone as truly wonderful as Dan apparently liked him, be he was so, _so_ grateful for it. 

Unable to contain his small smile, Phil tucked the blanket a little closer around Dan shoulders and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss into the mess of curls falling across his forehead.

“Goodnight, love,” Phil whispered.

“Nigh’ nigh’...” Dan mumbled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can’t wait to hear from you loves <3 
> 
>  
> 
> like and reblog on tumblr 


	17. 17 (6.8k words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ auroraphilealis ](http://www.auroraphilealis.tumblr.com) is a truly wonderful person and she continues to push me to be better and i love her for that. thanks, as always, for being a great beta and an even greater friend <3

The loud blaring of Dan’s phone alarm pulled him harshly from his sleep. 

_Jesus,_ he thought as he blindly fumbled around for his phone, _the volume was never up that high_. 

With closed eyes, Dan ran his hands over the area around his body, under his pillow, above his head, feeling around for his phone in all of the usual places. The obnoxiously loud alarm just _kept ringing_ though, he couldn’t find his _fucking phone_. 

After what seemed like a bloody _eternity_ , Dan’s hand landed on his phone. He cracked his eyes open just enough to hit the snooze button on the alarm, but was jolted further awake when he realized that he wasn’t in his bedroom — or even in his lounge for that matter. 

Dan’s eyes flew all the way open so he could take in his surroundings. In his sleepy haze, it took him a moment to process that the colorful room he was in belonged to Phil.

That’s right. 

Dan had fallen asleep while they were watching tv last night — on _top_ of Phil, if Dan was remembering correctly. Even though Phil’s lap was rather bony, Phil was a wonderful pillow — better than any pillow Dan had ever slept on, anyway, as technology had yet to invent a pillow that could play with Dan’s hair. Phil must have rearranged them and decided to let Dan sleep on the sofa, rather than waking him up so he could go home. It was unfair of Dan to want Phil to sleep _sitting up_ on the sofa, but he really did wish that he’d woken up with his head still in Phil’s lap and Phil’s hand still in his hair.

Unplugging his phone from the charger that had magically appeared sometime during the night, Dan looked back at the screen and saw that he had several unread messages from Louise.

**Louise <3 [8:03AM]: **Good morning :) I’m coming over early to pick you up for our meeting because I want to finalize your travel details for Germany.

**Louise <3 [8:07AM]: **I’m going to stop for coffee on my way there (perhaps at B&G hmmm). Do you want one?

**Louise <3 [8:28AM]: **You’re not answering, so I’m assuming you’re still asleep and that’s an automatic yes.

Dan had only _just_ finished reading the messages when another text came through.

**Louise <3 [8:32AM]: **Your loverboy isn’t working :( Be there in 15. Get your ass out of bed.

_Fuck_ , he really needed to beat Louise back to his flat, otherwise he was bound to be bombarded with questions about why he was rolling in at nearly nine in the morning, still in yesterday’s clothing. 

The only merciful thing was that Dan knew for certain that Phil wasn’t working because he was asleep in the other room. He couldn’t _believe_ that Louise had taken his silence as permission to go to B &G in hopes of meeting Phil. 

Well, actually, he _could_ believe it. It had been taking constant, persistent nagging on his part to stop Louise from stopping by thus far, he really shouldn’t be surprised. He would have to have words with her about it, though. A random, unexpected drop-by was _not_ how he wanted Louise and Phil to meet.

For now, though, Dan opted to ignore her messages — it was better to have her think he was still asleep than admit that he wasn’t at home. 

As quickly as he could make his sleepy body move, Dan tapped over to the Uber app, adjusted his location slightly, and — 

The wait was only six minutes for a car, _thank fuck_. 

Without hesitating, Dan threw the blanket off him. Distantly, it registered that he definitely had _not_ fallen asleep with a blanket on, meaning that it had magically appeared sometime during the night, just like the phone charger. It didn’t surprise Dan to learn that Phil was an amazing host, given how truly amazing that boy was at _everything_. 

Shaking the thought from his head, Dan climbed off the sofa. Frantically, he looked around himself, trying to figure out what he needed to do before he could leave.

Shoes. He needed shoes. Those were by the door? Maybe? And his coat. That must be by the door, too. 

And — 

_Phil_. 

Fuck. Dan couldn’t have Phil thinking that he’d snuck out. But there wasn’t time to wake him, and besides, Dan didn’t want to disrupt Phil’s sleep. 

A note would have to do.

Dan stumbled to the front door as quickly as he could manage. Clumsily, he tried to slip his shoes on and dig his ever-present lyric notebook and pen out of his coat pocket. He thumbed through the book, looking for a blank page, only to realize that it was getting full. 

There wasn’t time to search for an empty sheet, so Dan flipped back to the beginning, ripping out an early page that had song lyrics scribbled on it from the first draft of a song he’d already released. 

The page was nearly covered, both on the front and the back, but there was an empty space on the back of the page. That would have to do. Cramming his handwriting smaller than normal, Dan scribbled a quick note to Phil that would hopefully do an adequate job of explaining his disappearance.

_I had an early meeting and had to rush out because Louise is apparently on her way to my flat. Thanks for letting me crash on your sofa and the blanket and charging my phone. Coffee tomorrow?_

_♥ Dan_

A notification popped up on Dan’s phone, warning Dan his Uber was arriving in two minutes. He had just enough time to set the note out for Phil and head outside before the car would arrive.

Dan rushed back to the lounge and sat the note on his abandoned pillow, before hurrying back to the front door. He grabbed his coat and ran out the door, pausing briefly to make sure the automatic knob lock was set before he pulled the door shut behind him. 

Not wanting to make his Uber wait — or, more importantly, waste any precious time — Dan opted for the stairs instead of the slow lift, and skipped putting his coat on. 

He made it to the curb seconds before the car pulled up. Perfect timing.

Maybe he had a shot at beating Louise to his flat after all.

As the car made its way to Dan’s flat, he anxiously checked his phone to see if Louise had texted him again. Surely, _surely_ , she would text him if she got to his flat and realized he wasn’t home.

Other than the _Your Uber Has Arrived_ message, there were no notifications on Dan’s phone — no texts, no snapchats, nothing. Great.

The ride felt like it took years, even though Dan knew it couldn’t have lasted more than ten minutes, tops. When the car finally pulled up in front of Dan’s building, there was still no word from Louise — hopefully that was a good sign.

However, Dan knew he’d been found out when his lift doors opened to reveal Louise standing with folded arms in his foyer. 

“Daniel James Howell!” she scolded with a smile pulling at her lips and her eyes raking up and down his body as she appraised his appearance — Dan knew he probably looked a right mess. He was sure his clothes were rumpled from sleeping in them, and his hair was probably a wreck. 

Dan reached up, trying to surreptitiously flatten it into submission. Clearly, that was the wrong move though, because it just seemed to further draw Louise’s attention to the disarray. 

“Did you stay out all night?” she asked, sounding scandalized, but smiling nonetheless.

“Er… y-yes…” Dan stuttered, averting his eyes to the plant in the corner.

“Oh my god!” Louise exclaimed, clapping excitedly. Nervously, Dan shifted his eyes back to her and saw that her smile had twisted into a smirk. “Did you sleep with Phil?”

“No!” Dan denied quickly, his eye bugging out in alarm. “I told you — that’s not — I’m not — not yet!”

“Oh.” Her face fell, exuding disappointment. “I thought you weren’t going sleep with anyone before Phil.” Louise folded her arms again, but this time she looked stiffer, more genuinely annoyed. “Who was it then?”

Dan shook his head vigorously, embarrassed that Louise could even _think_ that of him. The mere thought of sleeping with someone besides Phil made his stomach twist into an uncomfortable tight ball.

“It was Phil,” he rushed to reassure her. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he tried to figure out how to summarize last night. Dan could feel his cheeks heating up and he willed his body to _calm down_. He was feeling self-conscious enough without his stupid cheeks giving him away. “We just didn’t, like, fuck.”

Louise’s eyebrows shot up. “Forget travel planning, you’re giving me all the details while you get ready.” 

Leading the way, Louise ushered Dan into his bedroom. Dan followed reluctantly — he knew that there was no way out of the interrogation he was about to endure. 

He didn’t want to _talk_ about Phil, he didn’t want to walk through the entire night with Louise. He was still reveling in the softness of it all, and he didn’t want to spoil it by analyzing every moment. 

In the past, he’d never minded — had _enjoyed_ , even — gossiping with Louise about his relationships. Now, though, he felt more exposed than he ever had when talking about a partner. 

But then again, he’d never felt this way about anyone before.

By the time Dan got to his bedroom, Louise was already on his still-made bed, leaning against the headboard with her feet extended in front of her.

“Spill,” she ordered before he had the chance to say anything.

“We didn’t fuck,” Dan repeated, hovering at the end of the bed and nervously wringing his hands, shyly waiting for the impending barrage of questions. 

“You said that already. What _did_ you do?” Louise clapped once and stared at him imploringly.

“I fell asleep on the sofa while we were watching tv…Dan trailed off. When Louise raised her eyebrows skeptically, Dan continued. “It was innocent. Nothing happened.”

“Not even a kiss?” If anything, Louise sounded _more_ suspicious now.

Dan should have knownhe wouldn’t get off that easily. 

A high-pitched squeak of protest slipped out of Dan’s lips before he could stop it. He slapped his hands over his mouth, shaking his head again. 

Well, that wasn’t _really_ true, was it? Dan had kissed Phil on the cheek when he’d arrived. And then later — later, Phil had kissed Dan on the forehead.

Just thinking about it brought a deep flush to Dan’s cheeks. On instinct, Dan buried his face in his palms, hiding from Louise.

“Oh my gosh, you liar! You totally did!”

“Not on the lips,” Dan mumbled into his hands in defence.

“What what that, Daniel?” Louise prodded.

Reluctantly, Dan pulled his hands apart enough that he could peek out at Louise and speak without being too muffled. “I said _not on the lips_.”

Louise gasped, a wide smile on her face. “And where _did_ you kiss, then?”

“Nope, nope.” Dan shut her down, mortified enough without having to explain it in any more detail. “That’s all you’re getting.” Dan defiantly turned around and walked into his closet, leaving the door open so he could still hear Louise. They needed to leave in forty-five minutes if they were going to make it to their meeting on time, meaning Dan _had_ to get ready.

He _definitely_ wasn’t planning to spend as long picking out an outfit as possible so that he could hide in his closet. Nope, of course not. 

Dan pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it into the laundry hamper. 

“Cuddling?” Louise asked hopefully, speaking a little louder now that Dan was out of sight.

He riffled through his clothes, looking for something that looked posh enough for a meeting with the studio executives, but was comfortable enough that he wouldn’t _die_ if he ended up putting in a few hours at the studio afterwards. “Wh-what about cuddling?” Dan stammered after a moment, playing stupid in a fruitless attempt to evade the topic. 

“Was there cuddling?” Louise clarified cheekily, clearly seeing _right_ through Dan’s diversion tactics. “I heard you two were _very_ cuddly Friday night.” She sounded knowing — _too_ knowing.

Dan was eternally grateful that Louise hadn’t followed him into the closet, because he was certain his rosy cheeks would have given away just _how_ cuddly he’d been with Phil recently. 

But wait.

How the _fuck_ did Louise know that him and Phil had been cuddly Friday night? 

_Fucking hell, if Adaline fucking..._

“Are you and Adaline talking about me behind my back?” he screeched, outraged and embarrassed, dropping the black shirt he’d been debating wearing. 

“Of course,” Louise confirmed dismissively. “Your life is interesting and you’re not being very forthcoming with the details.” 

_Jesus christ,_ this was what he got for having a best friend that he’d known his whole life. He ended up with a best friend and a sister who got along as well as siblings.

“Now talk,” Louise demanded.

With a huff, Dan bent over and scooped the shirt off the floor, shrugging it on. 

“Yes, there was cuddling,” Dan relented with a sigh, buttoning up his shirt as he walked out of the closet. 

Louise let out a happy squeal, cupping her cheeks in her hands and smiling widely. 

“Are you happy now?” Dan pleaded, wanting the humiliation to end already.

“No!” Louise reprimanded indignantly, a stark contrast to the smile on her face. “I want more details than that, and you know it!”

Dan shook his head in exasperation as he crossed the room to his dresser.

“Fine,” Dan grumbled, scooping out a dollop of pomade and shaping his hair into an acceptable mess. Not for the first time while talking about Phil, Dan felt like a small school child with their first crush. “I went over yesterday to watch his favorite show with him, but Addie and I had basically pulled an all-nighter the night before so I was exhausted.” Dan’s eyes shyly flickered to Louise in the mirror, and he could see that she had shifted to sit up straight, leaning forward eagerly. “At some point, I laid down with, um, my head in his lap, and he was playing with my hair and then, I don’t know. I guess I fell asleep.”

“Awww,” Louise cooed. “That’s so cute that he figured out that you like your hair played with.”

“I, um, might have encouraged him,” Dan confessed sheepishly, keeping his back firmly to Louise.

“Oh my gosh, that’s even cuter,” she gushed. “It’s sounds like you’re making some moves.”

If he felt like a school child before, he felt like a rather pathetic preteen now — desperate to explore physical affection but terrified to try too much.

“I mean, yes and no.” Dan shrugged, turning around to face Louise. “As nice as the flirting and the cuddling and the cheek kissing are, I don’t have plans of letting it go further anytime soon.”

Louise eyed him for a moment, looking contemplative. “Come sit, love.” She leaned back into the headboard, and patted the space on the bed next to her.

Obediently, Dan crossed the room and crawled up the bed, leaning against Louise. “What?”

“I want to ask you something, but I don’t want you to think I’m judging you or take it in a bad way. I just want to understand.”

“Okay…” Dan said tentatively. He took a deep breath and braced himself for whatever Louise was about to ask.

“You said you wanted to take things slowly with Phil — which I totally support. But I’m having trouble understanding how the cuddling and everything fits in with that. Because it sounds like you’re dating, just without, you know, calling it that.”

Dan sighed, running an agitated hand through his hair. Truth be told, he barely understood his feelings himself, so he had no idea how to go about explaining them to Louise. Phil was _different_ , everything about Phil felt _different_. And maybe… Dan just wasn’t sure if he was ready right this second for what was bound to be an intense relationship. 

“I don’t know how to describe it, really. It just feels… different somehow? Sex was such a big part of my relationship with Izzy, and I want things with Phil to have a chance to develop in other ways first.”

Louise nodded, looking contemplative. “You know, you could still properly date him — maybe even _kiss_ him—” Louise flashed him a teasing smirk, “ —without having sex with him.”

Dan let out a bark of laughter. “Right,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “When have you _ever_ known me to be good at restraining myself from having sex with a partner? If I kiss him, then I’m definitely going to fuck him.” 

“Fair enough,” Louise chuckled. “But what do you have against calling what you’re doing _dating_?”

“It’s dumb,” Dan mumbled, ducking his head down and fiddling with the last button on his shirt, pushing it _in and out_ and _in and out_. 

Louise wrapped an arm around Dan’s shoulder, pulling him into her embrace. “I’m sure it’s not dumb. If you feel it, it’s valid.”

Dan let his hands be jostled from his shirt and allowed his head to fall onto Louise. The soft, squishiness of Louise’s chest was comforting, but Dan could help but compare it to the firmer pillow of Phil’s lap.

“It was bad enough when I realized that Isabella was using me for fame and money, you know? Like, I realized that our whole relationship was based on something totally different than I thought it was. But then when I found out she was _cheating_ on me — for god knows how long — that fucking _crushed_ me. I’m not ready to be that vulnerable again.”

Louise hummed softly, in the way she always did when she was showing interest but didn’t want to interrupt. Dan fell silent for a moment as he tried to sift through his thoughts. 

“Right now,” Dan continued when he’d figured out how to say it, “In this weird limbo with Phil, it’s okay if I’m a little emotionally unavailable or don’t do any of the boyfriendy stuff right because we aren’t actually anything. Like, it’s okay if I’m a little selfish or fuck up. I don’t have to feel guilty for being a shitty boyfriend. It’s just… safer, I guess.”

Louise nodded, her chin bumping into the top of Dan’s head. “And how does Phil feel about being in limbo?”

“He’s being so good, Lou,” Dan gushed. “Last night, he mentioned a few times that I was in charge, that whatever I wanted was okay.”

“And he knows what you want?” Louise brought a hand up to Dan’s head, gently twirling a single lock around her finger, careful not to mess it up too badly.

“I think so. We talked about, like, twitter and stuff.” With a sigh, Dan turned his face more fully into Louise. Hidden in Louise’s arms, he felt more comfortable being open about his night with Phil. “And us. We, like, properly acknowledged that we liked each other.”

“And how’d that go?” Louise asked quietly.

“I said that I needed time before I could give him more than what I am right now, and he said to take all the time I need.”

Louise hummed quietly, thinking for a moment before speaking. “Sounds like a good egg.”

“The best egg,” Dan corrected, pushing off of Louise’s chest and sitting up. He swung his legs off the bed and offered his hand to her. “But I’ve now had enough serious discussion about my love life for the next year, so let’s go.” 

**************

Bright sun shined in through the window, forcing Phil out of his sleep and into consciousness. With closed eyes, Phil took slow account of the world, trying to figure out what time it was and what he had on his schedule today. Oddly, he registered that he was wearing a shirt — something he _never_ wore to bed. On the rare nights where it was too cold to sleep bare-chested, Phil opted to wear a hoodie, not a shirt.

So why had he — 

_Dan_. 

Phil had chosen to wear a shirt to bed last night because _Dan_ was in his flat, and Phil didn’t want to make him uncomfortable if they ran into each other in the middle of the night. 

Straining his ears, Phil tried to listen for noises — anything that would indicate that Dan might be up and moving about — but the flat was completely silent. 

He must still be asleep, then.

Even though Dan was in a different room and probably asleep, there was still something wonderful about waking up under the same roof as Dan. Phil didn’t have any idea what time it was, but he hoped it was late enough that he could wake Dan up without feeling too bad about it. 

Phil pushed himself into a seated position and reached for his phone, which he’d left charging on his nightstand, like always. Surprisingly, it was only quarter past nine. When left to his own devices, Phil normally slept _much_ later than that — and he knew Dan did too. 

Killing a little bit of time before waking Dan, Phil scrolled through his notifications, not replying to any, and checked his email. Nothing looked urgent enough to warrant a response right now, so Phil happily disregarded them all. After checking his calendar, Phil realized that he was completely free until his meeting at the BCC at three. Provided Dan didn’t have anything pressing to do, Phil hoped that they could spend some of today together. 

Pancakes and coffee — that should entice Dan into staying for a while.

With much less difficulty and self discipline than it usually took, Phil pushed himself out of bed. Fleetingly, Phil wondered how much _harder_ it would be to get out of bed if Dan was laying next to him, and not on his sofa.

Well fuck, that wasn’t the right thought to be having first thing in the morning.

Phil took a few calming breath, chasing away the implications of _those_ thoughts. 

When Phil felt like he had control over his mind — and his body — he tugged on a pair of socks and padded out into the hallway. Just as he’d suspected earlier, it was completely quiet in the flat. Phil headed towards the bathroom, stopping by the lounge to peek in at Dan first. Trying his best to stay quiet, Phil snuck his head around the lounge door and —

There was no Dan.

“Dan?” Phil called out, surprised and a little confused

No answer.

“Danielllll!” he called again, backtracking to the kitchen to see if he’d passed Dan on his way to the lounge. 

No Dan.

That only left the toilet, but as Phil rounded the corner, he saw that the door was open and the light was off.

No Dan.

Phil’s stomach fell as he realized that Dan must have already left. Where the hell was he?

Pouting, Phil trudged back to his room to collect his phone. There was no message from Dan, something that prickled at Phil’s nerves more than he wanted it to, but he was struggling to accept the fact that Dan — the most considerate person Phil knew — had left without any sort of goodbye. Unless — 

Unless Dan had woken up feeling differently. Unless he had changed his mind about Phil overnight and had snuck out to avoid facing Phil.

That was a crazy thought, though. They were great last night — somehow even better than they’d been Friday night at the bar. Whatever reason Dan had for being gone, it couldn’t be that.

Right?

Before Phil could overthink it, he opened his conversation with Dan and typed out a quick message, clicking send without rereading it.

**Phil [9:21AM]:** Your’e gone and didn’t tell me :( 

Blankly, Phil stared at the phone for a moment, willing Dan to respond instantaneously. 

But, of course, he didn’t. 

With a defiant click of the home button, Phil dropped the phone back on his bed and pulled a hoodie on. Phil paused to make sure that the phone volume was all the way up before shoving his phone into the pouch of his hoodie — he couldn’t tell if he hated himself just a little bit for that.

Phil headed back to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. Numbly, he stared at the water, simultaneously willing his overactive imagination to _shut up_ and the water to boil. But no matter how hard he concentrated on the water, his mind kept drifting back to Dan, inventing more and more reasons why he might be gone.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long for a response from Dan; the kettle wasn’t even fully hot when Dan texted back.

**Dan [9:27AM]:** soz i’m having a busy morning. i barely even had time for the note :( 

_A note._ A wave of relief crashed through Phil. So Dan _hadn’t_ completely run off on him.

Phil’s eyes immediately flickered to the fridge, and then scanned the countertops — the most normal places to leave a note — but came up short. 

He fumbled with his phone to reply to Dan.

**Phil [9:28AM]:** Where?

**Dan [9:29AM]:** sofa

**Dan [9:29AM]:** figured youd see it there

_Seriously?_ Did Dan foolishly believe that Phil would straighten the lounge before he had any caffeine? That boy was just as much of an addict as him.

Abandoning the kettle and his efforts to make a coffee, Phil dashed back into the lounge. 

Sure enough, there was a piece of paper laying on top of the pillow that Phil must have missed earlier. Eager to see what it said — especially since Dan’s messages hadn’t _really_ given Phil much to go on — Phil crossed the room in three quick strides and picked up the note.

The page was clearly torn from a notebook, one side adorned with small, torn bits of paper from where it had been ripped out. It was also _covered_ in words — there was far more writing than Dan’s short text message had made it seem like he’d written. 

Anxiously, Phil read it over, starting from the top. 

The words made absolutely _no_ fucking sense.

Well, they did, Phil just had no idea why they were relevant at the moment.

From what Phil could tell, the words were lyrics — lyrics that sounded rather like the single Dan had released at the end of the year, but not quite. 

Phil scanned the rest of the page, finding that there was smaller, more cramped writing at the bottom. His eyes caught on his own name, and he slowed down to carefully read each word.

_I had an early meeting and had to rush out because Louise is apparently on her way to my flat. Thanks for letting me crash on your sofa and the blanket and charging my phone. Coffee tomorrow?_

_♥ Dan_

So Dan had had to rush out, that’s why he hadn’t said goodbye. And he had a meeting and was with Louise, that probably explained why his texts were so short, too. 

But what was most reassuring — what Phil couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from — was the small, lopsided heart that Dan had doodled next to his name. 

There was no way that Dan had woken up feeling any different than he had last night, not if he’d signed his name with a damn _heart_.

When Phil finally, _finally_ , ripped his eyes away from the heart, he texted Dan back.

**Phil [9:34AM]:** I found your note! Did you make it home before Louise got there?

Phil put the note down on the coffee table, and returned to the kitchen, his desperation for caffeine growing now that the adrenaline from his panic over Dan had dwindled. His stomach was finally unclenching and his heart rate was almost a normal pace again.

The kettle had come to a roaring boil while Phil was gone; he flicked it off and opened the cabinet that was dedicated almost entirely to _just_ mugs.

Over the course of his life, Phil had collected al ot of mugs — arguably _too_ many. He had special ones from family and friends, but he also had a wide assortment of random mugs he’d purchased himself over the years (usually during his dubious late night shopping sprees). 

It was a bit ridiculous, how many mugs he owned considering the fact that he lived alone — and didn’t even have, well, _anyone_ over in the mornings to share coffee with usually. But he liked them, and couldn’t bare to part with any of them, so he kept all of them.

He settled on a Jurassic World mug that he’d bought and meant to return, but forgotten. Phil spooned in some instant coffee and sugar. Carefully, he poured the water from the kettle into the mug, but the loud _ding_ of his phone startled him and he spilled a large puddle of nearly-boiling water on the counter.

_Shit_. 

Better the counter than his foot… or his shirt… or any of the numerous other things that Phil had spilt on over the years.

Before the water could spread, Phil swiped his phone out of danger and threw a dish towel over the water. While the rag soaked up the spill, Phil looked at the notification that had caused the whole problem. 

**Dan [9:39AM]:** no she was waiting for me in the foyer i felt like a teenager again

A high pitched giggle escaped Phil’s mouth before he could stop it. He had a sudden image of Dan unlocking his apartment, only to find this sweet, motherly looking figure standing like a disappointed parent at the entrance to his flat.

**Phil [9:41AM]:** You poor thing! Was she super awkward?

After tucking his phone safely back in his hoodie pocket, Phil moved his mug to the opposite counter and mopped up the still-warm water. He was fully intending on taking care of the mess and being a proper adult, but then his phone _dinged_ again, and Phil abandoned the towel in favor of his phone, deciding the counter was at least passably dry. 

Phil pulled his phone back out of his pocket and opened the message, only for his heart to _plummet_. 

**Dan [9:43AM]:** yup

Phil stared at his phone blankly. Dan’s messages were incredibly short this morning, and this one — well, this one was _just_ one word. Phil kept staring at his conversation with Dan, but a second and third and forth message didn’t come through, like normal. He was having a hard time reconciling the abrupt, succinct tone of Dan’s messages with the cute note adorned with a little heart. Unsure what to do, Phil decided to push just a _little_ bit more, to see if Dan would elaborate more if Phil asked something more specific.

**Phil [9:25AM]:** Uh oh! What did she say? 

Slipping his phone back into his pocket and grabbing his coffee, Phil went back to the lounge, determined to clean up and get ready quickly so he could relax and watch a few episodes of something before he had to go to his meeting. 

As embarrassing as it was, Phil checked his phone every few seconds for the next ten minutes as he straightened up the mess from the sofa, folding the blankets and rearranging the pillows.

But there was no response from Dan.

Every minute that ticked by without a message from Dan, Phil’s anxiety built bit by bit. Why wasn’t Dan responding? Was he annoyed that Phil was asking questions? Was the heart on the note more casual than Phil had thought? Had Phil done something wrong?

Overthinking the situation was going to help any, so Phil forced himself to put down his phone and carry on with his day. He tried his best to convince himself that there was no point in obsessing over Dan’s responses — or lack thereof, really. Eventually, Phil grew sick of his mind wandering back to his phone, and he put on a podcast to occupy his focus.

Phil drank his coffee and did a half-assed job of straightening the lounge. It wasn’t as clean as it had been before Dan came over, but it was good enough. Figuring it was better to get ready before relaxing, Phil jumped in the shower. 

The warm water helped to soothe away some of his worries, so that when he got out and got dressed, Phil actually felt sort of relaxed. The rest of his anxiety _melted_ when he picked up his phone and realized he had a message from Dan. _Several_ messages, actually. 

**Dan [10:42AM]:** she was VERY interested in why i didn’t come home

**Dan [10:42AM]:** turns out her and addie have been gossiping behind my back

**Dan [10:42AM]:** so apparently i need new friends lol

**Dan [10:47AM]:** my morning has been nothing but important conversations so far and i want to be back asleep on your couch

_That_ was more like the Dan that Phil had come to know — no respect for society’s rules on sending a million texts in a row, not particularly suave, and _just_ this side of clingy. 

Phil loved it. He was glad to see that _this_ version of Dan was back

**Phil [10:52AM]:** Oh wow, your sister and your best friend talking about you? That sounds awful. I’m suddenly very glad that Martyn doesn’t have any of my friends’ phone numbers

**Dan [10:53AM]:** you should be. i’m sure he’d tell them all kinds of terrible and embarrassing things

**Dan [10:54AM]:** actually, can i get his phone number real fast?

**Phil [10:55AM]:** Hilarious -.- 

**Phil [10:56AM]:** By the way, do you have a few minutes to talk about some work stuff in the next hour or two? 

Despite the fact that Phil had responded to Dan within a _minute_ of Dan texting him, there wasn’t an immediate reply. This time, Phil felt less panicked by Dan’s radio silence, comforted by the abundance of messages he’d gotten from Dan in such a short period of time — perhaps Dan just had another meeting or something.

Phil was, however, a little anxious to talk to Dan. Later today, Phil had a meeting with his supervisors at the BBC, and Phil _knew_ they would want to talk about a guest host again. Phil was hoping to have some semblance of a plan that he could pitch when it inevitably came up. A few days ago, Phil had drafted ideas for what a radio special with Dan could be like — and he was actually kind of excited about what he’d thought of — but he wanted to confirm with Dan that he was still serious about appearing on Phil’s show, and maybe even get a feel for Dan’s opinions on some of it. 

As much as Phil would have liked to have spent the day with Dan, a few hours of productive time certainly wouldn’t hurt. 

Phil made himself a fresh cup of coffee and settled into the sofa with his laptop, deciding to use his time to edit the video he’d filmed yesterday.

The footage was a complete _wreck_ , really. Phil had had _no_ idea how to make slime and had pretty much winged it. As a result, there were two completely useless takes where he’d fucked it up beyond repair and had been forced to start over. Piecing together a rough cut of good footage took nearly two hours — _double_ the amount of time it normally took. 

Just as he was getting frustrated by having to pick between two equally good, but different, takes, he was saved from editing by his phone ringing.

Phil glanced at the caller ID and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was Dan. After the lack of response earlier, Phil had begun to suspect that Dan would be too busy to talk to him today, especially before Phil had to head out for his own meeting, but Dan must have found some time.

Not concerned about appearing too eager, Phil answered the call on the second ring.

“Hey, Dan!” Phil greeted with a smile.

“Hey, Philly!” Dan replied, sounding happier than Phil probably would be if he had had a day as busy as Dan’s sounded. “How are you?”

“Bored of working, you have great timing,” Phil chuckled. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t hear from you, though.”

“Sorry, yeah. I’ve been talking to people nonstop today and just managed to sneak away for lunch. I’m so over it.”

A rush of guilt hit Phil — Dan’s day had undoubtedly been filled with talking about work stuff, and here Phil was asking Dan to talk about yet _another_ work project during his lunch break. 

“That’s awful!” Phil sympathized. “We can talk later if you want so you can enjoy your lunch break!”

“I’m perfectly happy spending it talking to you, I promise,” Dan assured him. Phil felt a slow warmth spread through him at that, his heart beating a little faster and his cheeks flushing. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh!” Phil shook himself out of his fluster. “I have a meeting with my supervisors at the BBC today and wanted to talk to you about guest hosting before I brought it up to them.”

“Oh yeah, I’m excited!” Phil _swore_ that he could hear a smile in Dan’s voice. 

“So you definitely want to do it, then?” Phil asked, still not quite convinced that Dan wasn’t just doing him a massive favor. He bit his bottom lip as he waited for an answer.

“Of course, you spoon. It will be fun to work with you,” Dan reassured quickly, almost interrupting Phil. 

_Thank god_. Phil released the lip he was chewing on, breaking out into a smile instead. He hadn’t been sure that Dan had been entirely serious when he’d agreed to the radio show.

“I agree,” Phil replied warmly “I’ve got a bunch of ideas, actually. If you have time I’d love to hear your thoughts, first?” Phil couldn’t keep the question out of his voice, still not entirely convinced Dan wanted to spend too long on the phone with Phil. Dan was quick to pacify his worries, though. 

“Louise had to run home to take Darcy to daycare because her nanny got sick, I’ve got plenty of time.”

Just because Dan had _time_ didn’t mean he had the brain power — Phil knew that better than anyone.

“And you’re _sure_ you don’t want to just relax on your break?” Phil pushed one last time.

“Hit me with your ideas, Lester,” Dan said with a small laugh. Phil could practically _hear_ Dan rolling his eyes. 

He grinned, opening his google doc filled with notes for his potential show with Dan.

“Okay, okay, here we go.”

Phil walked Dan through his ideas for the show one by one. Even though Dan had no experience with radio, he had great instincts and proposed several great additions to Phil’s original plans. Together, they wove their ideas into an actual cohesive pitch for an episode.

By the time they’d talked about as many details of the show as possible, they’d been on the phone for nearly half an hour. The guilt that Phil had felt earlier gnawed at his conscious again when he realized that, sure, Dan might have been okay with talking to Phil on his lunch break, but there was no way that he’d wanted to spend his _whole_ lunch break discussing _work_.

“Thanks for helping me. I’ll let you go enjoy your break now, though. You should probably actually eat something, you know.”

“Lou texted and said she’s bringing Greggs back, so I’ve got a bit more time to kill. If, um, you’re free, that is…” Dan trailed off, sounding suddenly unsure of himself.

“I’m always free to talk to you,” Phil assured him, speaking softly.

“Great,” Dan agreed, his voice just as soft as Phil’s. A slow smile spread across Phil’s face, his stomach filling with butterflies and his heart flipping over. 

Normally, phone calls were terrible. Phil _hated_ talking on the phone with PJ, his brother, even his _mum_. He’d always prefered to talk on facetime, or skype — or _anything_ really. Something about not seeing the person, not knowing what they were doing and seeing their reactions made phone calls awkward and impersonal.

But not with Dan.

With Dan, Phil could _hear_ the smile in his voice, and could perfectly imagine the way Dan was probably tapping his fingers on his thighs.

With Dan, phone calls were _great_.

But then again, with Dan, _anything_ would probably be great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like and reblog on tumblr 


	18. 18 (7667 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: an unbeliavable thank you to @auroraphilealis for betaing and helping me fix one stupid shitty scene, and push the end to be the best it could be, even though her back was hurting and she was in pain. she’s phenomenal, okay?

The producers at the BBC absolutely loved Phil’s pitch for a radio show with Dan. They were both surprised and impressed that Phil had already managed to not only secure a verbal agreement from Dan, but had also already started collaborating on some of the show segments with him. The producers were so eager to begin formally planning the show that they wanted to contact Dan’s manager _during_ Phil’s meeting with them. 

Feeling guilty for already having taken up so much of Dan’s limited free time that day, Phil derailed their phone call, promising instead to text Dan the next day and personally set up a meeting.

If the producers were impressed when Phil said Dan had already agreed, they were utterly _floored_ when they found out that Phil had Daniel Howell’s _personal cell phone number._

Everyone, that is, with the exception of a younger intern, who Phil knew had been a fan of his since long before he’d started at the BBC. Instead of looking shocked by the revelation of Phil’s close relationship with Daniel Howell, she smirked as if Phil was confirming something she already suspected.

Hopefully she wasn’t reading too much into Dan and Phil’s relationship.

Although, even if she was, Phil knew that interns — and staff, for that matter — were all required to sign nondisclosure agreements during the hiring process, and Phil was fairly certain that any information about Phil’s relationship with Dan (or lack thereof, at the moment) fell well within the limits of those agreements.

Despite what Phil had told his supervisors, however, he didn’t wait to text Dan until the next day. Phil was too excited by everyone’s reactions to wait; he barely made it out of the main door and around the corner of the building before he had his phone out and was typing a message to Dan.

**Phil [4:24PM]:** The people at the BBC were really excited about our show and want to set up a meeting for later this week if you’re free!

**Dan [5:13PM]:** that’s amazing! i’m not free until the end of the week or early next week 

Three little dots were _flash flash flashing_ across the bottom of their conversation, so Phil waited for another message to come through.

**Dan [5:15PM]:** turns out that once you tell your studio manager that you’re working on a concept album and have rough versions of five songs, they actually want to hear what you’ve got

More dots. 

One of Phil’s favorite things about Dan was how utterly unapologetic he was, right down to the way that he had no qualms about triple texting.

**Dan [5:16PM]:** so i’m in the studio all week pretty much :/

**Phil [5:19PM]:** That makes sense. I can set it up for Monday or Tuesday so you have time to focus on music if you want?

**Dan [5:21PM]:** that’d be great, thanks

**Dan [5:22PM]:** early morning or late afternoon would be best

**Phil [5:25PM]:** Okay! I’ll let you know when I hear what their availability is. 

**Phil [5:26PM]:** You keep talking about how you’re making a concept album and you’ve got me very curious.

**Dan [5:31PM]:** all in good time, philip. i think you’ll like it though. 

**Dan [5:31PM]:** i hope

Phil stared blankly at his phone. 

That was vague and cryptic. It was hard to tell if Dan was saying that Phil _specifically_ would like the concept, or if Dan was just proud of his work and thought people, Phil included, would like it. 

_Oh well,_ Phil thought. He’d just have to figure out _in good time_.

Whatever the hell _that_ meant.

****************

Dan loved music.

Really, he did.

He _adored_ spending his days in the studio, collaborating with people he thought were objectively better musicians than himself, finding ways to make the music in his head _real_. He _lived_ for the moments where he managed to perfectly capture a tune or a mood or a feeling with his music — and this week, there had been a _lot_ of those moments.

But no matter how much passion Dan had for music, he was rather disgruntled that a a strict studio schedule had stopped him from seeing Phil all week.

All. Fucking. Week.

Usually, Dan’s hours were more flexible, and he was able to stop by Beans and Grind while Phil was working — at least for a few minutes, anyway. But this week, Dan was spending so much time in the studio that he barely even had time to nip down to the Starbucks across the street. And by the time Dan left the studio every night, it was always far too late to try to see Phil.

They’d been texting, of course, but they seemed to be on opposite schedules. Phil would text Dan during rehearsal, or Dan would catch Phil just as he was walking into a meeting.

As a result, Dan’s week had been long, productive, and completely and utterly _Phil-less._

By Saturday afternoon, Dan had escalated from missing Phil to feeling rather lost without Phil in his day-to-day life. 

That morning, Dan had turned down evening plans with Louise under the guise of needing to introvert some. And, at that time, Dan really had believed that he might spend his Saturday night hibernating alone. But as four in the afternoon rolled around, Dan found himself focusing more and more on the _loneliness_ that was encroaching on him. 

Besides, who really lounged at home alone on a Saturday night anyway?

Dan would _much_ rather spend his night with Phil. 

Anxiously, Dan twirled his phone between his fingers, trying to figure out what to text Phil. He wanted to do something tonight, but he didn’t want to _do_ anything — especially not anything that could be too easily misconstrued as a _date_. Perhaps it would be best to just stay in, that way they could… be themselves.

**Dan [4:14PM]:** buffy tonight? 

Dan stared at his message. It was a bit abrupt. He nervously tacked on a second message, hoping to make it sound more appealing.

**Dan [4:14PM]:** i promise not to fall asleep this time

It took Phil a while to respond — in fact, he’d been slow to respond _all week_. Dan had been telling himself again and again that it was _fine_ , that Phil _had a life_ , that just because Phil wasn’t replying instantly didn’t mean he’d _changed his mind_ about Dan. And with every minute that ticked by, Dan felt those thoughts rushing back with more and more ferocity.

Fifteen minutes later, Dan’s anxiety had ran him around in circles and nearly convinced him that texting Phil had been a terrible idea. Then his phone _finally_ vibrated, and Dan lunged for it, both desperate and terrified to see if it was Phil and, if so, what Phil had said. 

**Phil [4:32PM]:** Sorry I was finishing up filming. Yes!! Your flat or mine?

The tension that had lodged itself in Dan’s shoulders _whooshed_ away, and his breathing returned to a normal, less labored pace.

It was fine, _fine_. Of course Phil still wanted to see him. Everything was _fine_.

Dan tugged his lip between his teeth, debating his options. If Phil came to his place, Dan could be a bit lazier. Plus, Dan had been missing his flat, his sofa, his bed…

_His bed_.

Fuck. That alone was enough reason to not have Phil ‘round his. Dan knew he would do a better job of keeping his guard up at Phil’s.

**Dan [4:35PM]:** yours so you don’t have to lug the dvds

It was a weak excuse, but it was probably better than saying _yours because i might say fuck it and fuck you if you come here_. 

This time, Phil’s response came faster.

**Phil [4:37PM]:** Okay! When do you want to come over?

Dan glanced between his abandoned guitar and his paused netflix show on the tv.

**Dan [4:38PM]:** tbh i’m not doing anything so whenever is fine

Without waiting for a response from Phil, Dan pushed up off the sofa and flicked off the tv. Regardless of when he went to Phil’s, Dan didn’t want to show up in his trackies and a wrinkled v-neck, so he might as well go about getting changed now.

Phil had already responded by the time Dan got to his bedroom.

**Phil [4:39PM]:** Want to come over soon and have dinner here?

A small smirk pulled at Dan’s lips — maybe Phil was just as eager to see Dan as Dan was to see Phil. Dinner and Buffy at Phil’s sounded like the _perfect_ Saturday evening in.

Well, maybe not _perfect_ — _perfect_ might include a few _other_ details, but it was perfect enough for now.

**Dan [4:41PM]:** yeah

Dan flashed back to the last time he’d eaten at Phil’s and inspiration struck him. Quickly, he typed another message to Phil. 

**Dan [4:41PM]:** do you still have that bottle of white wine

Impatient to just _be at Phil’s_ already, Dan rifled through his closet while he waited for a response . He wasn’t sure what he wanted to wear tonight. He wanted to still be comfortable — especially since he’d been _properly dressed_ all week — but he also wanted to look _good_. 

A new message from Phil interrupted Dan’s thought process.

**Phil [4:43PM]:** Yes, but we are not drinking that.

Dan barked out a loud laugh. Clearly, Phil must hate white wine just as vehemently as Dan. In Dan’s mind, the only acceptable use for white wine was cooking, and well —

**Dan [4:44PM]:** fuck no. louise gave me her recipe for some white wine pasta sauce though. 

**Dan [4:45PM]:** wanna try to cook?

For some reason, cooking with Phil sounded _fun_ , even if Dan didn’t particularly enjoy it by himself. It could be something cute to do together, something other than just sitting around and talking or watching tv — not that Dan didn’t _love_ doing both of those with Phil, too. Cooking just might be a fun change.

Apparently, Phil thought so too.

**Phil [4:47PM]:** I can’t promise to be good, but it sounds fun! Come over and then we can go to Tesco and get whatever I don’t have.

Dropping the shirt that was in his hand, Dan texted Phil back, maybe pushing _just a bit_ on Phil’s open invitation.

**Dan [4:47PM]:** now?

Hopefully _now?_ didn’t seem too needy. And hopefully Phil _did_ want Dan to come over now. Dan didn’t know if Phil had anything he was doing right now. It was _highly_ possible that Phil’s _come over_ meant _come over later_ , not right this fucking second.

Over analyzing things wasn’t helping any.

Dan focused on finding bottoms to wear. Jeans. That much was easy at least. Hopping slightly, Dan pulled on a pair of black skinnies — they weren’t the _tightest_ pair that he owned, but they were still tight enough that Louise had asked if he’d got them in the women’s department.

(To which he’d snarkily replied _does it matter?_ )

**Phil [4:52PM]:** Yes! I haven’t seen you all week!

A crimson blush flooded Dan’s cheeks, and a smile wide enough to bring out his dimple spread across his face. Even though there was no one around to witness Dan’s flustered reaction, he was still embarrassed by _just_ how easily a few words from Phil could rile him up. 

Suddenly, finding the _right_ outfit felt even more important. 

Shoving aside a few hangers, Dan continued searching his closet for the right jumper to wear. 

After throwing a few rejected options to the floor — he’d probably regret that later — Dan settled on a massively oversized, baggy beige sweater. It wasn’t the most flattering thing he owned, but it was cozy and Louise had once told him that he looked like an adorable teddy bear in it. 

Pausing only briefly to fix his hair, Dan grabbed his phone and wallet from his dresser, and rushed towards his door.

While he waited for the lift to reach his floor, he pulled on his coat and tucked his key into his pocket. Dan pulled up uber on his phone as he rode the elevator down, only to find that the wait for a car was currently almost twenty minutes — it _was_ Saturday evening, but there must have been an event or something, because that was still pretty abnormal. 

Twenty minutes was an _absurdly_ long wait time for a car — walking to Phil’s would probably take less time than waiting. Plus, the exercise would probably do Dan good since he’d been holed up in the studio all week. Dan waved hello to the doorman and headed straight for the exit, texting Phil as he started his walk.

**Dan [4:59PM]:** mk be there soon bb

London wasn’t snowy anymore, and was instead giving way to _slightly_ warmer temperature, which Dan was grateful for as he trekked to Phil’s. It was cold still, of course, but he could tell that March was right around the corner. There was only half an hour — maybe — of sun left, though, and the temperature was steadily dropping. Dan picked up his pace and reached Phil’s _well_ before the car would have even arrived at his own flat.

Before Dan was even fully inside of Phil’s entryway, he frantically rang the bell for Phil’s apartment four times. There was a brief wait — longer than Dan wanted to wait in the uninsulated entryway, anyway — before the front door was buzzed open, and Dan rushed into the elevator.

When Dan finally reached Phil’s flat, he found the door cracked open, but Phil was nowhere to be seen. Dan tentatively stuck his head in the door and called, “Phiwwww?”

“Come in!” Phil shouted back from somewhere in his apartment. Dan pushed the door open and hovered inside, waiting for _some_ indication of where Phil was. “My room!” Phil added after a minute of silence.

Dan hadn’t been in Phil’s room yet and he was curious. Sure, he’d seen it in plenty of videos, but that wasn’t the same as _seeing it_. 

Excitedly, Dan led himself down Phil’s hallway, passed the lounge and the kitchen, and into the part of the flat he’d never been before. There were two doors, but only one appeared to have the lights on. 

Dan knocked lightly on the door with light underneath it. 

“Phil?” 

“Come in,” came Phil’s voice again.

Dan nudged the cracked door open, popping into the room. It looked just like it did in Phil’s videos, but also _different_ somehow. A bit more disheveled, a bit more personal.

In front of the tall mirror, Phil was doing up the buttons of his shirt. The top of his chest was just barely visible in the mirror, and Dan wished that Phil would just fucking _turn around_ so he could see it better.

“Hi, darling, how are you?” Phil asked casually, only briefly glancing up from his buttons to meet Dan’s eyes in the mirror.

Maybe it was a good thing Phil wasn’t properly facing him, because Dan _knew_ his face was probably a red, blushing mess. Ever since Dan had stopped Phil from calling him _Danny_ , Dan had realized that Phil had a propensity for pet names. Until now, he’d been using _dear_ , but _darling._

_Darling_.

Something about _darling_ felt softer. Sweeter. More intimate.

Dan _adored_ it.

“Hey,” Dan muttered, still dazed from Phil’s greeting.

Phil turned around and crossed the room, coming to a stop just in front of Dan. “You good?” Phil asked cheekily.

That little shit knew _exactly_ what he was doing to Dan. 

As he pushed the final button through the loop, Phil leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Dan’s cheek.

“Tesco?” Phil suggested, pulling his bedroom door open farther and sidestepping around Dan. 

“I, um.” Dan shook his head slightly in an effort to regain his composure, but followed after Phil dutifully anyway, mind whirring. His eyes kept darting to Phil’s butt and back up again distractedly, until they managed to make it just outside the door of the kitchen. 

Finally, Dan snapped out of his stupor, and he shook his head. “Do you want to look at the recipe and see what you need first?”

Phil spun around to face Dan. “Right!” He stopped in his tracks, looking a bit chagrined. “That’s a good idea.” With a nod, Phil beckoned Dan into the kitchen, coming to a stop in front of his cupboards. “So what are we making?” Phil asked, turning on Dan.

Unlocking his phone, Dan pulled up the recipe that Louise had sent him the other day. “White wine garlic pasta sauce, apparently,” he read off. “Here,” Dan shoved the phone into Phil’s hands so that he could look at the ingredients.

Phil was silent as he scanned over the recipe. “Actually,” he said, “If you aren’t committed to having fresh herbs, I think I have all of this.”

“Are you sure?” Dan asked, already reaching for the zipper of his jacket. It was fucking _cold_ outside, but it was nice and _warm_ inside Phil’s flat. At this moment, even if Phil said he was missing the fucking _pasta_ , Dan wasn’t sure he actually had the motivation to go back outside.

Evidently Phil wasn’t set on going outside either, because he gently placed Dan’s phone on the counter before knocking Dan’s hands out of the way. Dan let his hands fall to his side without resistance. Dan was a grown twenty-four year old man, a man perfectly capable of taking off his own jacket, but there was something so _nice_ about Phil doing it for him. Relaxing into it, Dan let Phil take control. He wasn’t sure _when_ Phil taking care of his jacket had become a thing, but Dan liked it.

“Positive,” Phil murmured, grabbing the zipper pull between his large, clumsy fingers.

Dan’s gaze trailed up from Phil’s fingers to his face, taking in Phil’s soft smile and warm eyes.

“Okay,” Dan whispered back, flashing Phil a matching grin. 

Carefully, Phil undid Dan’s coat zipper, exposing Dan’s baggy sweater bit by bit.

“It’s cold outside,” Phil offered, as if they needed more justification for not going to the store. His hands slipped inside Dan’s coat, resting on his shoulders for a hair of a second before sliding down Dan’s arms, taking the coat with him. 

“Mmm, it is,” Dan agreed, not fully paying attention to what Phil was saying — he was far more focused on the feeling of Phil’s hands on him. “I walked here.” Dan caught his fingers around the cuffs of his jacket just in time to keep it from falling onto the kitchen floor. 

“You’re an idiot,” Phil teased fondly. He pulled the jacket out of Dan’s grasp and away from his body, bundling it into a ball.

For all of the care that Phil had taken in removing the coat from Dan, he didn’t seem to care _at all_ what happened to it once it was off. Without a second thought, Phil threw it onto the far corner of the counter. 

The jacket gave a small _thump_ when it landed, breaking the spell between them.

Dan shook his head, pulling himself out of his reverie and trying to refocus on the present. Phil had already moved away, and was opening every damn cabinet in the kitchen.

“Let’s cook?” Phil asked cheerily.

“Definitely!” Dan hovered in place awkwardly, watching as Phil dug a pan out of his cabinet. “Er, Phil… I have no idea where any of your stuff is,” he reminded Phil timidly.

“Oh!” Phil rounded on Dan, looking both sheepish and apologetic. “Sorry, um…” His eyes flitted around the kitchen. “There’s an onion and a garlic on top of the microwave, and cutting boards are to the right of there. Chop whichever one you want, and I’ll do the other.”

Wanting to avoiding having his fingers smell like garlic if possible, Dan swiped the onion off the microwave, grabbing the cutting board and a knife from the block on his way to the counter by the stove. 

Carefully, Dan peeled the wrappings off the onion and cut off the ends. While he did that, Phil shuffled up next to him with a cutting board and knife of his own. While Dan set to cutting the onion, he watched Phil out of the corner of his eye. Phil pulled off a few bits of garlic, messily peeling off the paper, before starting to cut jaggedly at the small clump left behind.

Phil’s slightly haphazard approach to cooking was endearing, even if all of the open cabinets were probably a safety hazard. Dan tried to envision how Isabella would chop garlic — the paper would probably have come off neater and the chunks would probably be more evenly diced.

Actually, Dan realized, that might not be true.

He had _no idea_ how Isabella would chop a garlic — or an onion or a pepper or a fucking _strawberry_ for that matter.

Isabella _never_ had fresh food in her apartment. Or, rather, she only had pre-chopped fruits and vegetables that she could eat raw, and if she wanted anything other than that, she ordered takeaway.

But something about the fact that Phil already owned almost _everything_ that they needed to make a recipe, a real adult _recipe_ , made Dan smile. And not only did he have ingredients, he wanted to _cook_ with Dan. Phil wasn’t insisting on going out to eat or trying to push cooking off onto someone else. Phil almost seemed to see cooking as a little _adventure_ that they could do together.

It was sweet, the whole _moment_ was sweet. Something about working side by side, their non-dominant hands brushing lightly as they tinkered with their food, felt so _natural_ to Dan. Something about Phil felt _right_.

Smiling softly to himself, Dan continued chopping. 

The fumes from the onion burned Dan’s eyes, stinging sharply and making tears form, but he pressed forward. He was _almost_ done. It wasn’t until his vision blurred too much to keep cutting, that Dan sat his knife down and stepped back from his board, forcefully pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes in an attempt to relieve the burning.

Dan heard Phil start to giggle, and lifted one hand from his eye so he could peek out at him. Phil, ever observant, had noticed Dan’s absence next to him and had turned around. Now he was laughing, his tongue poking out of his mouth. 

“Oh my gosh, Dan!” Phil’s voice was higher than normal, laughter seeping through his words. He dropped his own knife and spun around completely to face Dan. He reached up, knocking Dan’s hands away from his face, and wiped the welling tears away from his eyes. 

The world was too blurry for Dan to properly make out Phil, but he was hyper aware of the way Phil’s smooth fingers swiped across Dan’s cheeks, the way he was caring for Dan.

No one — at least, no one other than his Mum and Louise — had ever taken care of Dan so gently, and he was absolutely in _love_ with it. 

“Better?” Phil asked, laughter still lacing his voice. 

Dan blinked a few more times, the residual onion fumes dissipating now that he had some distance. “Yeah,” he smiled softly. “Thanks.”

His eyes darted up to meet Phil’s, and he froze. The way Phil was staring at him— Dan couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it made him feel like Phil thought he was _precious._ Phil’s fingers were lingering on Dan’s cheeks and the touch was so, _so_ warm. 

It was gentle and soft and perfect, and Dan _never_ wanted it to end.

Eyes never leaving Phil’s, Dan’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, his body subconsciously falling closer to Phil’s… 

Abruptly, Phil let out an awkward cough. 

“I’ll finish the chopping, why don’t you open the wine?” Phil suggested, nodding in the direction of the fridge, where Dan assumed the white wine was. His voice was a little bit hoarse.

Blinking rapidly, Dan nodded stupidly. “Right. Okay,” he agreed.

He grabbed the wine opener from the drawer — that was one thing he knew about Phil’s kitchen, at least — and opened the fridge, pulling out the bottle from the side door. Setting himself to work, Dan opened it and measured out the right amount of wine with the measuring cup he found in Phil’s cabinet. To his dismay, the recipe apparently only needed just under half of the wine.

“Er, Phil?”

“Yeah?” Phil replied without looking up from his chopping. 

“What are we gonna do about the rest of this wine?”

Phil sat down his knife and spun around to face Dan, staring at the half-full bottle in his hands. “Um…” Phil wavered for a minute before spinning around again and moving to the fridge. He rifled around before turning back to Dan, offering up a fruit salad and some juice. 

Dan eyed him skeptically, trying to figure out what Phil was suggesting. 

“We can make sangria?” Phil suggested weakly. 

Understanding washed through Dan. 

_Sangria,_ of fucking _course_. “Phil Lester!” Dan exclaimed, his smile pulling wide. “You’re a genius!”

Phil’s uncertainty twisted into a smile to match Dan’s, a blush dusting his cheeks and his tongue sticking out as he let out a small laugh. Like always, Phil’s hand reached up to hide his mouth, this time the bottle of fruit juice knocking him in the cheek.

“Give me that, you spoon,” Dan giggled, taking the bottle from Phil’s hand. Phil flashed Dan a wider smile before turning around and searching the cabinet for something. 

After a moment of digging, Phil turned and sat a tall, square - well, what _was_ that?

“Here it is,” Phil announced happily. 

“Phiw?” Dan asked warily. “What is that?”

“It’s a glass!” Phil defended, glancing between Dan and the tall, square glass. Dan felt a rumble of laughter rising up in his throat. “It’s probably big enough to make the sangria in, yeah?” Phil looked at Dan like he was _baffled_ why Dan wasn’t getting this on his own.

“Phil!” Dan managed to say through his laughter. “That’s not a fucking _glass_.”

Phil’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What is it then?”

“It’s a fucking —” Dan cut himself off with more laughter. His chest ached, he was laughing so hard. Dan wheezed, trying to regain composure for just long enough to speak “— _vase_ , you absolute _idiot_!” 

Phil looked back and forth between the _glass_ and Dan, an embarrassed look growing on his face. Clearly he was realizing that Dan was right. 

“Well, I drink out of it,” Phil mumbled beneath his breath.

“Oh my god,” Dan said. “You’re precious, Philly,” he cooed, still laughing.

“Fuck off,” Phil grumbled, swiping Dan’s phone off the counter and handing it to Dan.. “ _You_ make the sangria in the _vase_ ,” Phil instructed, “And _I’ll_ work on the pasta,” he added, snatching Dan’s phone up off the counter, holding it out to Dan. Wordlessly, Dan unlocked it and passed it back to Phil so he could look at the recipe.

Still pink, Phil turned his back on Dan and stomped over to the stove, which did _nothing_ to tame Dan’s laughter. 

Burying his head in his hands, Dan fought to regain enough composure that he could focus on the task at hand. After a few deep breaths, he finally managed to suppress his laughter — at least mostly, anyway.

Dan opened the container of fruit and dumped it into the _glass_ that Phil had offered him, pouring the rest of the wine on top of it. The vase was only half full — meaning that it had to hold at least as much as a bottle of wine.

_‘It’s a glass’ my arse,_ Dan thought.

Dan scanned the bottles of liquor on Phil’s counter, trying to decide which one might go best with white wine and — he glanced back at the bottle of juice — pear juice.

_Pear juice? Who the fuck keeps **pear juice** in their house?_

Dan shook his head, deciding that wasn’t a question worth asking, and opted for rum. It was sweet, at least, so maybe it’d fit in okay.

Not bothering to fetch the measuring cup, Dan poured (and poured, and poured) some into the vase. When he felt like there was enough rum, Dan added a _small_ splash more (for good luck) and topped the rest of the vase off with juice. 

Dan turned back around, looking for another long spoon that he could use to stir the sangria, eyes falling on a tall container of utensils by the stove. Sidling up behind Phil, Dan reached around him to grab a spoon from the container, whispering a hoarse _boo_ in Phil’s ear just before their arms brushed.

Much to Dan’s pleasure, Phil startled and jumped backwards on reflex, crashing his back against Dan’s chest. 

“Da _aan_!” Phil whined as Dan started to laugh. Phil turned to pout at him “Don’t be mean. You’ve only got one Phil!”

“Mmm,” Dan hummed through his residual chuckles. “Sorry,” he apologized with absolutely no remorse in his voice — only humor was shining through. Phil made a small disgruntled noise, but didn’t say anything else, choosing instead to go back to cooking.

Dan peeked over Phil’s shoulder when he smelled the sauce, distracted him from his original mission. 

“How much longer on dinner?” Dan asked.

“The sauce should be done by the time the pasta is finished cooking. So maybe fifteen minutes? “Can you work on that?” Phil pointed to a cabinet across the kitchen. “Noodles are in that cabinet.”

With an affirmative noise, Dan stepped back from Phil, crossing the kitchen and opening the cabinet that Phil had pointed to. Just like Dan, Phil had roughly _four million_ different types of pasta. Dan picked out his favorite, hoping it’d be alright with Phil, and opened it as he crossed the kitchen back to the stove.

Sliding in next to Phil, Dan poured the box of pasta into the pot of water that was already boiling on the stove. He watched the noodles sink into the pot, trying to remember why he’d come over to Phil in the first place.

_Right, sangria_.

“Pass me a spoon, will you?” Dan nudged his shoulder against Phil’s lightly. 

Barely glancing up, Phil reached for a spoon, and handed it to Dan, gaze intent on his sauce. Dan smiled at Phil’s look of concentration, and reluctantly returned to the _glass_ of sangria. He gave it a good stir with the spoon, and didn’t bother to taste test it. 

Unable to suppress a smile at Phil’s antics, Dan grabbed two _actual_ glasses from Phil’s cabinet, and served them each a drink. 

“Cheers, mate,” Dan said as he handed Phil one of the glasses. “To no more white wine.”

Phil turned with a smile of his own, and took the offered glass. “Cheers,” he said, _clinking_ his glass against Dan’s and bringing the sangria up to his lips to take a tentative sip. Immediately, his eyebrows shot up. “Bit strong,” he sputtered, swallowing.

Nervously, Dan took a drink of his own, his eyebrows flying up to match Phil’s. “Oops,” Dan said with a shrug, a small giggle breaking through his innocent act. “I guess I went a bit heavy on the rum.”

Phil shook his head, clearly seeing straight through Dan’s facade, and took a larger sip. “Good thing I like rum then,” he chuckled.

Dan smiled cheekily, taking a drink and managing to control his reaction this time. “I’ll get us plates,” he offered as he set his glass down next to Phil’s on the counter. 

They worked in easy tandem, Dan getting everything together that they needed to eat, and Phil putting the finishing touches on dinner. When the food was ready, Phil served them each a bowlful, carrying it into the lounge while Dan put the vase of sangria in the fridge, grabbed their drinks and silverware, and followed behind him. 

The tv was on, the menu for the Buffy DVD already on the screen with the volume muted. Phil went to press play on the remote, but Dan seized his wrist, stopping him mid-action. 

“After we eat,” Dan murmured. “Let’s just chat for a bit.”

Phil’s lips quirked up in a smile that reached his eyes, the tip of his tongue poking out. 

“Whatever you want, darling.”

Against his will, Dan’s cheeks heated up, probably turning a horrid color of bright red. Nonetheless, his mouth broke out into an uncontrollable smile, his dimple so prominent that Dan could practically _feel_ it. 

So they talked. 

Dan _finally_ got to hear about Phil’s week — properly, and not through sporadic, short text messages. Phil told him about the videos he’d filmed. All of Phil’s content was phenomenal, but Dan was particularly excited about the new installment of Phil’s _things I thought were true that are not true_ series. Unsurprisingly, Phil considered winning at Fortnight to be a _far_ bigger accomplishment than anything else he’d done — Dan _knew_ how long and hard Phil had been working towards that goal.

In exchange, Dan told Phil as much as he could about his time in the studio, although he wasn’t sure how much he was technically allowed to be saying at the moment. Instead of focusing on the _music_ part of his time there, Dan told Phil all about how Louise had brought Darcy in, and how he’d spent one of his lunch breaks trying to teach her the basics of the drums (it hadn’t worked, but they’d both had fun anyway). Dan also filled Phil in on Adaline’s love life — apparently their parents had found out that Adaline was dating two boys at once and had had an awkward conversation where they tried to tell her to _just pick one_ (Dan’s mum swore the conversation left a lasting impression, but Dan knew for a fact that Adaline had actually gone on a casual date with a _third_ guy last night). 

When their food was gone and the conversation finally slowed some, Phil grabbed their plates and brought them to the kitchen. Dan followed behind him with their sangria glasses. 

His was completely empty, but Phil, who’d been drinking slower than Dan all night, had only finished half of his. 

Without having to coordinate it, Dan and Phil moved seamlessly around each other in the kitchen — Dan sidestepping away from the dishwasher before Phil could ask him to move, Phil putting the last bit of the sangria back in the fridge when Dan was done with it.

Just as naturally, Dan carried their re-filled glasses back to the lounge, letting Phil get comfortable on the sofa before handing Phil both drinks. 

Tonight, Dan didn’t hesitate to curl into Phil. He tucked his knees into his chest, pressing his side against Phil and letting his head fall to Phil’s shoulder. Wordlessly, Phil handed Dan his drink once he was settled, pressed play on the TV remote, and wrapped his free arm around Dan.

Phil had queued up the episode that Dan had fallen asleep during last weekend, even though he must have already seen it several times. Dan appreciated it, because he _hated_ watching things out of order and missing _any_ parts of a show he was watching — even if it wasn’t important.

Now that Dan was more fully awake, he could properly appreciate Buffy. It was a good show, albeit a bit cheesy in the way that all shows from the late-nineties were.

The sangria that Dan was sipping on certainly didn’t hurt either. It tasted minimally like white wine — or at least Dan thought so. 

By the end of the first episode, he had completely finished his glass. Phil, on the other hand, was nursing his — maybe the white wine taste was too strong for him.

Phil pressed pause on the opening theme of the next episode so that Dan could fetch the leftover sangria. Dan brought the vase back with him, but ended up pouring the rest of it into his own glass when Phil shook his head. Dan had also snagged a bag of marshmallows for Phil from the pantry, knowing that he didn’t consider a meal complete without nibbling on something sweet at the end. With the enthusiasm of a small child, Phil ripped the bag from Dan’s hand, excitedly shoving one into his mouth. 

“Fank you,” Phil managed to say through a full mouth.

“No problem, Philly,” Dan smiled, taking a sip of his sangria and throwing his legs across Phil’s lap and his head on Phil’s shoulder.

As the second episode progressed, and Dan finished his third sangria, he started to feel the effects of the alcohol slowly sinking in, blurring the edges of his inhibitions and melting away his worries. Dan wasn’t sure when, but sometime after he’d curled back up on the couch, Phil’s hand had snuck up Dan’s back and settled in his hair. Soft tingles trickled up and down Dan’s spine as Phil ran Dan’s curls through his fingers. 

By the third episode, the rum and wine had fully hit Dan, making his mind fuzzy and his words slurred. Phil didn’t seem to mind, not if the way his lips turned up in a smile every time he looked at Dan was anything to go by.

Halfway through the third episode, Phil gently pushed Dan off him.

“I’m gonna get us some water,” Phil said, as he stood, not bothering to pause the episode. 

“Thanks!” Dan called out to Phil’s retreating figure. 

Without Phil, however, the sofa suddenly felt far too big, and far too cold. Shifting his legs out, Dan tried to get comfortable again, but it was useless. No matter how he laid, Dan felt unsupported and awkward. Resigned, Dan tucked his legs underneath him and waited for Phil to return.

When a few minutes went by and Phil wasn’t back with their waters, Dan pushed up off the couch and went looking for him, not fully thinking through his actions.

Dan rounded the corner to the kitchen and froze in his tracks. Phil was bent over the counter slightly, reaching into the far back of his cabinet.

Against his will, Dan’s eyes took in Phil’s body, trailing down from his broad shoulders to his tight ass.

_Why was Dan waiting again?_

Phil was here, _right here_ , and he was everything Dan had ever wanted in a partner. Dan’s drunken brain couldn’t come up with a single reason _why_ he should wait another second.

Dan shifted, accidentally knocking his knee into the doorway with a loud _bang_. The noise caught Phil’s attention and he whirled around.

Suddenly, Dan felt his breath knock out of him — and it had nothing to do with the throbbing pain in his leg. Phil’s hair was mussed up from lounging, and sometime since he’d left Dan on the sofa, he’d found the time to switch into his glasses.

He looked beautiful, but also so goddamn _human_.

Isabella had _never_ looked that casual, that cutely disheveled in front of him before. No partner that Dan had _ever_ been with had been this unbelievably attractive to Dan, especially not in this domestic and natural setting.

Dan wanted to see what Phil’s hair looked like when it was messy for reasons _other_ than lounging, what his glasses looked like when they were knocked askew, what his shirt looked like rucked up a bit...

_Fuck it_.

Dan breathed out, letting his inhibitions go and the alcohol take charge. Without warning, he crossed the kitchen in three large strides, and came to a stop directly in front of Phil. Dan’s eyes flitted across Phil’s face, memorizing how gorgeous every single detail of him looked when Dan was _this close_.

“Hey,” Dan whispered, resting his hands on either side of Phil, bracketing him against the counter.

Phil’s eyes were blown wide, staring back at Dan just as intensely. “Hey,” he whispered back.

Dan offered Phil a small smile, hesitating for a moment and instinctively wetting his lips with his tongue. Dan’s eyes left Phil’s, darting down to his mouth. Like Dan, Phil’s lips were parted and damp, his breath coming in uneven spurts.

Dan let his eyes fall shut and leaned in, seeking Phil’s lips with his own. 

They never came.

Instead, gentle hands pressed against his chest, pushing him back slightly.

“Dan,” Phil murmured, not letting Dan go. “Wait.”

Dan’s eyes flew open again, immediately seeking Phil. His heart, which had previously been beating fast in excitement, thumped violently against his chest for entirely differently reasons now. 

“What?” Dan asked, confusion and alarm fighting for dominance of his still hazy brain.

“I, um,” Phil stuttered. His hands knotted themselves in Dan’s baggy sweater, effectively holding him in place — not that Dan had any intentions of moving away. “Your sister,” Phil blurted nonsensically.

Blinking blankly, Dan tried to think through the cloud of alcohol to figure out what _Adaline_ had to do with this particular moment.

Hopefully _nothing_ , Dan thought sardonically.

“Wha’ ‘bout my sister?” Dan asked when he couldn’t figure it out, his brows furrowing and lips drawing into a pout.

“I promised her —” Phil cut himself off with a sigh, screwing up his eyes as if he were trying to regain his composure. His hands fell from Dan’s chest to his waist, forcing him backwards another half step, but staying firmly planted on his hips. “I promised I’d wait for you to make the first move.”

Dan chuckled, moving forward and effectively undoing Phil’s attempts to put space between them. “What d’ya think I’m doing, Phiwip?” Dan teased, the alcohol slurring his words.

Phil pushed Dan backwards again. “Sober,” he clarified.

_Sober._

The word washed over him like a bucket of ice water, shaking the drunkenness from Dan’s bones better than any cup of coffee ever could.

_This_ , drunk and desperate, wasn’t how things were supposed to happen between them.

“Fuck.” Dan felt the color draining out of his face and he instantly withdrew his hands from the counter. Forcefully, Dan stepped back from Phil, causing his hands to fall from his hips. “Shit. You’re righ’.” Dan took another step backwards. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Phil assured him, his eyes wide with — _something._ Why couldn’t Dan place the look in Phil’s eyes? 

Phil took a small step forwards, closing some of the distance between them.

“I should go,” Dan muttered to himself just as much as to Phil. He was still reeling from the quick shift in the atmosphere, and even though he _knew_ Phil was right — _knew_ that he’d regret kissing Phil for the first time because he was drunk and _wanting_ — he also knew he didn’t have the willpower to be around Phil right now.

“You don’t have to!” Phil rushed to say, his hand reaching out and clasping around Dan’s wrist.

Offering up a small, resigned smile, Dan slid his wrist out of Phil’s grip just far enough to link their hands. “I really should,” Dan murmured. “I’ve got rubbish self control.” He held their intertwined hands up in demonstration, squeezing Phil’s fingers in his softly.

“Okay,” Phil agreed, voice hushed, but made no movement to drop Dan’s hand. He was still looking at Dan with that indecipherable expression. “Text me when you’re home?”

“Of course,” Dan nodded in agreement, his voice just as quiet as Phil’s. 

“Are we okay?” Phil whispered, concern laced in his tone, his face, his body.

“So long as you’re no’mad at me,” Dan said in a small voice.

“Definitely not mad,” Phil promised softly. Leaning forward, he pressed a tentative light peck to Dan’s forehead, effectively quelling his fears. Phil’s lips lingered for probably a moment too long, before he pulled away again. Stepping away, Phil turned and grabbed Dan’s coat from where he’d tossed it on the counter earlier.

“Here,” he said when he’d turned back around. 

For once, Phil didn’t help Dan into his jacket. Instead, he stood back against the counter, putting careful distance between him and Dan, and watched as Dan put it on himself. Once Dan was bundled up as best as he could be, he pulled out his phone to call an uber, relieved when he found the wait had settled down to a more reasonable 8 minutes. 

“I’ll walk you down,” Phil said, still speaking quietly enough to not break the mood. “Make sure you get into the car alright.”

“Thanks.” Dan smiled, genuinely amazed at how sweet Phil was being considering Dan had just drunkenly tried to come onto him.

True to his word, Phil pulled on a coat and led Dan to the lobby. They hovered close to each other, standing just inside the door to shelter themselves from the biting cold as best as the could.

Silence washed over them, and Dan couldn’t quite tell if it was tense or not. Phil _said_ he wasn’t upset — and, really, nothing he’d said or done made him _seem_ upset, but Dan was still replaying that moment in his head. The feeling of Phil’s hands on his chest, pushing him _backwards_ instead of pulling him forwards was echoing in his veins. 

Both of their attention snapped down when Dan’s phone _dinged_ with the notification that his car was arriving.

“Will I see you before Tuesday?” Phil asked, grabbing Dan’s forearm before he could walk away.

“I’m really busy,” Dan said with an apologetic frown. He leaned forward and pecked Phil on cheek, eyes fluttering shut for the brief second. When he opened them again, he found that Phil’s eyes had fallen closed too, the corners of his lips turning upwards. Dan smiled at the sight. 

“But I hope so,” he murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: come scream at me all you want, but if it makes you feel any better, i have the get together scene written. it’s right there, just waiting to be put in the fic. it’s coming, i promise.
> 
>  
> 
> like and reblog on tumblr 


	19. 19 (8k words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m too tired to write a proper author’s note because @auroraphilealis just got another 2k out of me at one in the damn morning when i have work tomorrow but i love her for it <3

As it turned out, Dan was too busy on Sunday _and_ Monday to hang out with Phil again. If it weren’t for the fact that Dan and Phil were almost constantly texting, Phil would have been worried that the near-kiss had messed things up between them. But Dan hadn’t brought it up, and his messages still had the same hint of flirtation, so Dan and Phil must be fine. 

Their meeting with the producers at the BBC on Tuesday went _fantastic_ — everyone loved the ideas that he and Dan presented, and the producers were confident that the plan for the show was a good balance between segments that would be interesting for Phil’s regular audience, and pieces that would draw in new listeners.

By the end of the meeting, they’d picked a date for the show — the day before Dan left for Germany. It would be a Thursday, which was different than Phil’s normal slot, but the producers thought it would be an ideal night for the special and that, with adequate promotion, Phil’s regular audience would still tune in.

As they left the building and made their way to the tube stop, Phil could barely contain his excitement, and judging by the way Dan wouldn’t stop talking about the meeting, Dan must be excited too.

They were hovering in the grimey entrance to the tube, both refusing to turn down their own corridor to wait for their train, because they were too busy talking.

“I think they really, really liked it,” Dan gushed.

Phil smiled, shuffling forward a small step to be just a _little_ bit more into Dan’s space. “Of course they did. It’s exactly what they wanted!” he replied.

“It’ll be fun, I think,” Dan continued quickly, practically bouncing on his toes in excitement as he stared out at the people rushing around them. “I’ve never gotten to interact with fans like that before.” Through thick eyelashes, Dan finally turned and properly looked up at Phil. “Plus, I can’t wait to see how you are on the radio.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Phil said bashfully, ducking his face away in embarrassment.

Dan shook his head with a soft smile. “I’m sure you’re wonderful at it.” His eyes drifted away to the screen flashing the current train schedules. “My train’s gonna be here in just a few minutes,” he frowned.

Phil followed Dan’s gaze. “Mine too.” Even to his own ears, the remorse was obvious in his voice. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Of course,” Dan promised. “When are you working this week?”

“The usual shifts.” Phil drifted a little closer. He wanted to do something — _anything_ — to tell Dan goodbye properly. His hands were itching to reach out and hug Dan, his lips desperate to press against Dan’s temple. They were in public though, in the middle of the busy London underground, and that wasn’t an option.

“Good,” Dan replied.

He must have been wanting to touch Phil just as badly, though, because his hand swung out, deliberately brushing against Phil’s. Their fingers touched just the briefest of minutes as Dan stared into Phil’s eyes. “I’ll see you soon, Phil,” he promised.

Unfortunately, both Dan’s and Phil’s lives were both growing more and more hectic by the day. With the added responsibility of planning the radio special, and doing all the necessary work to promote it, neither Dan nor Phil really had any free time left. Dan was in _full musician mode_ (or at least, that’s how he described it to Phil), and spent almost all of his time either holed up in his music room at home, or at the studio across town working on his mysterious _concept album_ that he’d yet to tell Phil the fucking _concept_ of. Phil, for his part, was doing his best to stay on top of his youtube channel, his normal radio shows, his liveshows, and his hours at Beans and Grind. Finding time to plan the radio show together was hard enough, let alone finding time to hang out.

Still, though, they both made as much time for each other as they could, in whatever capacity they could manage. Whenever Dan was working from his music room in his flat, he’d always text Phil and see if he was available to skype and be co-productive from the comfort of their own homes.

The first time it had happened was two days after their meeting at the BBC. 

Phil was filming a _how to_ video for his channel when his phone _dinged_ loudly, completely ruining a decent take of his current line. Disgruntled, Phil switched it onto silent and slid it across his dresser, forcing himself to maintain his cheery persona as he re-said the line for the _millionth_ time. 

Nearly two hours later, Phil pressed the stop button the camera and picked up his phone. There were _dozens_ of notifications that he’d missed while filming, but one in particular stood out. 

**Dan [6:14PM]:** come be productive on skype with me

It was a cute little order — one that Phil was happy to comply with, and he felt his stomach flip over just thinking about it

But when Phil glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearing eight already, his heart sunk. Dan had messaged him _ages ago_ , and Phil had missed it. Phil hoped that Dan still had his phone with him, that he was still doing whatever it was he’d been doing, and was still willing to skype Phil.

**Phil [7:52PM]:** I just finished a video! I’m free now :) 

Much to his dismay, however, Dan didn’t respond — not then, and not any time that night. It wasn’t until the next morning that Phil got a new message from him.

**Dan [9:02AM]:** sorry i got wrapped up in what i was working on and didn’t see your message. next time? xx

The loss of a chance to spend _any_ kind of time with Dan left Phil determined to never miss another message from Dan — or chance to see him — ever again.

So Phil made it so that his phone made a unique noise whenever Dan texted or called, and Phil started always, _always_ dropping whatever he was doing to answer when he heard that noise. Maybe Phil was clingy or pathetic or — according to PJ — _whipped_ , but he didn’t care. The new method meant that he got to have many, _many_ co-productive skype calls with Dan.

During most of their calls, Phil worked on editing his videos or planning a different radio show, while Dan worked on his new music. Phil noticed that sometimes Dan played his guitar, sometimes his piano, and sometimes he just stared intensely at a small notebook in his lap, occasionally scribbling something down. 

Although Dan never called attention to it, Phil noticed that sometimes there were large periods of times where Dan would mute his microphone so Phil couldn’t hear whatever Dan was working on. A few times, Phil thought about asking _why_ , but he was terrified that Dan would realize that Phil had caught on, and would instead start hanging up during those moments rather than muting himself — or worse yet, canceling their skype call time all together — so Phil just pretended not to notice.

Outside of their co-productive skype calls, Phil only got to see Dan at Beans and Grind. Those visits were never long — or private — enough for Phil to feel satisfied. And from the way Dan lingered at Phil’s side when he said his goodbyes, Phil guessed the visits weren’t enough for Dan either.

On one such occasion, Dan fiddled with his coffee cup, sliding it back and forth between his hands. It had been empty for almost half an hour — and for almost all of that time, Dan had been saying he needed to leave. His jacket was still slung over the nearby stool, though, and he wasn’t making any moves to pull it on. 

“Louise is probably waiting for me,” Dan grumbled for the sixth time.

“It’s fine,” Phil also said for the _sixth time._ This time, however, he reached out and grabbed Dan’s mug as it _swooshed_ towards Dan’s other hand. “You should go, we can find time to do something this weekend,” he added in an attempt to push Dan to get out of here before Phil changed his mind. 

“Yeah, definitely.” Dan nodded eagerly, seemingly placated by the offer. His hands slid further across the bar and knocked into Phil’s. For a moment, they both lingered there, lightly brushing their fingers together for a few minutes before Dan finally pulled away with a sigh.

“See you soon, Philly,” Dan promised, a wide grin and two big dimples shining on his face as he turned and walked away.

They tried to find time to watch more Buffy together as well (or, really, just properly _see_ each other), but life just kept getting in the way. They’d made plans for Dan to come over again the weekend after their BBC meeting, but Dan ended up having to cancel last minute because Darcy _and_ Louise had gotten sick and apparently Louise’s boyfriend was out of town. Dan, being the complete softy that he was, had dropped everything so that he could play nurse for them.

The weekend after that, Dan was stuck in the studio rehearsing for the concert that was less than a week away. He texted Phil during every break, and even sent Phil a sneaky studio tour video (which just so happened to include a snippet of him rehearsing), but Phil couldn’t help but be a _little_ disappointed that the constant rehearsals meant no time with Dan.

It wasn’t until the night before their radio show that Phil _finally_ got to see Dan somewhere other than a grainy skype screen or at the coffee shop. On Wednesday evening, Dan texted Phil to inform him — not ask, _inform_ — that he was on his way over to Phil’s flat _right now_ because he’d just finished packing for Germany. 

The text message completely made up for Phil’s dull and boring day so far, and even if Phil _had_ been planning to do something tonight, he would have happily dropped it to spend the evening with Dan. He was glad Dan had decided to come over whether Phil liked it or not — because Phil definitely liked it. 

His flat was a mess, though, and Phil wasn’t _quite_ comfortable enough with Dan to let him see the state he lived in sometimes. Phil barely managed to collect the dishes that had been scattered around his lounge, bedroom, and office and pile them into the dishwasher before the doorbell buzzed, however, announcing Dan’s arrival. Phil knew it would have to be enough.

Phil rinsed his hands off, frantically rubbing them dry on his jeans as he raced to the door. Not bothering to ring down to make sure it was Dan, Phil jammed the _door open_ button and opened his front door, too impatient to see Dan to wait for him to knock.

Perhaps Dan was impatient too, because he came out of the stairwell a few minutes later, not the lift. Dan’s pace as he crossed the hallway to Phil was quick — maybe a little too quick to be really considered a _walk_ — and he practically _launched_ himself the last few steps, throwing his arms around Phil’s neck and burying his head in Phil’s shoulder. 

“Oof,” Phil grunted, briefly steadying himself on the doorframe before wrapping his hands around Dan’s waist and pulling him in closer. The light, cottony scent that was just so _Dan_ overwhelmed Phil. He was just so, _so_ happy to have Dan — actual real life _Dan_ — in his arms. Smiling, Phil pressed a small, chaste kiss to Dan’s shoulder, unable to stop himself from showing just a _bit_ more affection. 

After holding Dan tightly for a moment, Phil unwound his arms and tried to step back, only for Dan to tighten his grip and make a small noise of protest.

Phil chuckled and wove his arms back around Dan with a smile. “Missed you too,” Phil said, his lips accidentally brushing against Dan’s ear. Phil shuffled backwards, not letting go of Dan, and pulled him into the flat with him. Dan giggled, but let himself be pulled along. 

As it turned out, two intertwined six-foot tall giants didn’t make for the most graceful walking; Dan accidentally stepped on Phil’s toes, and Phil accidentally smacked Dan into the doorframe before they’d even made it three steps. But neither of them minded, and they ended up laughing into each other’s shoulders, the sound muffled but somehow still loud and happy enough that Phil worried his neighbors might pop their heads into the hallway.

It wasn’t until they were all the way into Phil’s flat and Phil had managed to kick the front door shut that Dan relinquished his grip on Phil.

“Hi Phiw,” Dan said warmly, smiling up at Phil through his eyelashes, his dimple prominent on his cheek. 

“Hi Dan.” Phil grinned back, his hands naturally rising to the buttons of Dan’s coat — well, more a jacket, really. The frigid chills of winter seemed to have mostly passed. Unwilling to let Dan out of his embrace just yet, Phil took his time on the buttons of Dan’s coat, pushing each one through its hole as slowly as possible. 

“Want something to drink?” Phil offered as he hung Dan’s coat on the hook. 

“Hot chocolate?” Dan suggested, a childlike excitement seeping into his voice.

Phil nodded. “Okay. Go settle on the sofa and I’ll put the kettle on,” Phil instructed, content to finally have someone that shared his love for sweet drinks and easy nights in.

As Phil turned into the kitchen, though, he heard Dan’s light footsteps puttering behind him rather than turning into the lounge. Phil glanced behind him and saw that Dan had followed him.

While Phil was filling the kettle, the cabinet next to him swung open, Dan’s delicate hands reaching in and rummaging through its contents.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Dan mumbled. “You’ve got a lot of mugs, Phil.”

Phil’s eyes flickered to the dishwasher sheepishly, where he knew there were at least another five or six mugs hiding. “Sorry, I like mugs a lot…” he shrugged, a little embarrassed, as he set the kettle on the counter and turned it on.

Dan leaned back, poking his head around the door so he could see Phil. “I love it,” he said with a sincere, fond smile. “I used to drink almost _everything_ from a mug.”

“Used to?” Phil questioned, tipping his head to the side.

Dan’s face clouded for a moment — with _what_ , Phil couldn’t quite tell — before fading back to normal. “Long story.” 

Eager to hear each and every one of Dan’s stories, Phil started to assure Dan that had he had plenty of time, but Dan cut him off before he could saying, adding on, “I don’t wanna get into it right now.”

With a note of finality, Dan turned away from Phil, and pulled out two mugs — a lion shaped mug that Phil had received from a viewer _years_ ago, and a corgi print one that was actually a sample for some new merch — and sat them down next to the kettle. 

Dan waited in the kitchen with Phil while the kettle heated up, asking Phil if he’d seen any cute dogs or met any weird people since they’d hung out last. Phil was having trouble concentrating on his answers, though, because Dan was hovering so, _so_ close to him. Phil had a feeling nothing he was saying made any sense, but Dan didn’t call him out for it. Phil was glad, because he was still adamant that _everything_ between them was to happen on Dan’s terms, and it was taking all of Phil’s energy to resist the urge to wrap his arm around Dan’s waist, to pull him into his arms, to press a kiss to his temple. 

To say fuck the kettle and fuck Dan instead.

Fucking hell, Phil needed to keep it in his pants. He shook his head a little, trying to force _that_ thought away and focus on the moment at hand. 

Once the kettle finally finished boiling, and the hot chocolate was made, Dan picked up the corgi mug with both hands, wrapping his long fingers around it. That left Phil to pick up the lion one, and he was secretly pleased when he realized that Dan had probably intentionally picked out which mugs he wanted for each of them. 

Dan followed Phil into the lounge, his mug cradled close to his chest, but when Phil turned around to sit down, he found that Dan had stopped to hover by the coffee table. 

“Sit down, silly.” Phil laughed, nodding to the sofa behind him. Dan simply nodded, but didn’t move to take Phil’s invitation. Confused, and not sure what Dan was doing, Phil sat down, hoping that Dan would follow. 

Dan didn’t sit immediately; he waited until Phil was situated before crawling onto the sofa as well and immediately settling against Phil’s side. Dan rested his cheek on Phil’s shoulders and let his knees tip into Phil’s lap and — _Oh_.

_That’s_ what Dan wanted — to curl up next to Phil — and _that’s_ why he’d been waiting. 

A light blush rose to Phil’s cheeks as the realization dawned on him, and this time, he didn’t hesitate to loop his arm around Dan’s shoulders. If Dan was cuddling into him, that was permission enough for Phil.

The entire premise of Dan coming over had been to watch more Buffy, but the remote was lying on the opposite armrest, well out of both of their reaches, and neither of them were making any move to get it. 

Not then — and not for the next hour, either.

The tv just wasn’t necessary, or even _wanted_. They were content to just be in each other’s presence and be able to talk — talk about their lives, what they’d been watching on netflix recently, and the trivial mediocrities of life. It didn’t feel pointless or boring, and the conversation never stalled. Phil savored having Dan with him in his flat, in his _arms_ , again, and Dan seemed equally happy to just enjoy the moment without any distractions.

“What are you planning to do in Germany?” Phil asked as he absent-mindedly trailed his fingers up and down Dan’s arm.

“Hopefully raise a lot of money for mental health services for youths,” Dan chuckled, his laughter interrupted by a small shiver shaking his body when Phil’s fingers drifted to his inner forearm.

“Well, _yeah_ , but that’s work stuff.” Phil rolled his eyes and grabbed Dan’s bicep, jokingly shaking Dan a bit. “I meant with your sister, like what are you guys planning to do?”

“Oh!” Dan sounded surprised by Phil’s question. “Sorry, Louise and I have been going over every fucking detail of this trip, but we haven’t talked at all about what I’m doing for fun, so I just…”

“Went straight to work stuff?” Phil supplied when Dan trailed off.

“Yeah, exactly.” Dan tipped his head back on Phil’s shoulder and smiled widely at Phil. Staring up at him with beautiful, chocolate eyes, Dan looked absolutely _beautiful_ and Phil couldn’t help getting lost for a moment. 

“Have you thought about it, though? The fun stuff, I mean,” Phil said, shaking his head, trying to get Dan to focus on the _personal_ bits of his upcoming trip, not just work.

Dan settled his cheek back onto Phil’s shoulder. “Obviously!” Dan replied, rolling his eyes. “There’s a really cool, super old beer hall I went to last time I was there that I want to take Addie to.”

“Hofbräuhaus?” Phil suggested, the name jumping into his mind from his drunken exploits in Germany.

Unexpectedly, Dan excitedly shot up, nearly knocking his head into Phil’s chin. “Yeah! Do you know it?” he asked, turning to face Phil properly.

“I went there with PJ!” Phil replied, grinning wide. He couldn’t believe he and Dan had been to the same place, even if it wasn’t at the same time. Somehow, that made him feel just a little bit more connected to Dan.

Dan tapped his hands eagerly on Phil’s thigh. “That’s so cool! When did you go to Munich?”

Without thinking, Phil reached out with his spare hand to still Dan’s hands on his thighs. “Gosh, it must have been… the summer after we graduated uni? I think?”

Dan flipped his hand over, threading his fingers betweens Phil’s. 

“Did you go to that church with all the big figurines that dance and stuff?” Dan asked.

Phil smiled, and nodded his head. “Rathaus-Glockenspiel! That was so cool! I didn’t expect them to be so _big_.”

They seemed to talk about Munich for forever after that, excitedly exchanging stories of mischief they’d gotten up to and great food they’d eaten. The conversation spiraled from there, and Phil learned all about what Dan did on tour when he wasn’t performing. As it turned out, Dan had the same _go go go_ mentality that Phil’d had when he’d done his own mini tour. They’d even prioritized a lot of the same sights and experiences. 

The more Phil got to know Dan, the more amazing Phil thought Dan was purely from just how _similar_ they were.

It wasn’t until Phil got up to go to the bathroom that they started actually _doing_ anything with their evening. When he came back from the loo (with a glass of ribena for them each), Dan was sitting upright in the middle of the sofa, remote in hand and Buffy queued up on the tele. His prim posture didn’t last long, though; as soon as Phil sat down, Dan curled back into him. 

Phil chuckled quietly when he realized that Dan’s head was conveniently low enough for Phil to comfortably rest his hand in his curls and, sure enough, Dan let out a soft sigh when Phil’s fingers tangled in his hair. With a small smile, Phil twirled the locks between his fingers, letting his eyes fixate on the soft boy in his arms rather than the pretty girl on the screen.

It was a good thing Phil had seen the entire series a dozen times, because he wasn’t paying a damn bit of attention to the show tonight. How could he when he had a gorgeous, soft boy in his arms?

They made it through three and a half episodes before Phil realized that Dan’s eyes were growing heavy. With all that they both had on their plates right now — especially Dan — Phil could hardly blame him. After a certain level of tired, sleep won out over just about anything. 

Phil gently tugged at the locks that were still knotted around his fingers. “You’re free to spend the night here again,” he said, blushing as he realized how it sounded, and hastening to add, “but I won’t be offended if you want to call an uber and sleep in your own bed.”

Dan’s head nudged at Phil’s chest once, twice, before slipping down a few centimeters to rest more on his stomach. “Here’s good. I’ll just wake back up if I go home.”

A rush of affection hit Phil. He’d adored the fact that Dan had slept over last time, but it hadn’t exactly been a conscious _decision_ on Dan’s part. But tonight — tonight Dan _was_ deciding to stay at Phil’s, and the intimacy, the _domesticity_ of that, warmed Phil from the inside out.

“Okay.” Phil pulled his hand away from Dan’s hair, pushing lightly on his shoulders. “You can take the bed and I’ll sleep here. Budge up so I can get you settled.”

“Noooo,” Dan whined petulantly, and stubbornly pushed his head into Phil’s lap. Phil bit back a laugh; Dan could be such a _child_ sometimes and it was endearing in the silliest of ways. “I slept in some this morning so I’m okay for a few more episodes.”

Phil leaned forward and peeked at Dan’s face. His eyelids were heavy, and he was clearly fighting to keep his eyes open at all. Like hell would Dan make it through a few more episodes — Phil would be luckily if Dan stayed awake for ten more minutes. 

And truthfully, Phil was feeling fairly tired himself. If he was going to watch (or sleep through) a few more episode, he didn’t want to be wedged upright against the back of the sofa.

Phil bumped his leg up slightly, lightly pushing at Dan’s cheek. “Can we move positions at least? That’s great that you got to sleep in, but I didn’t,” he teased.

Wordlessly, Dan rolled off Phil’s lap, hauling himself into a standing position. “Lay,” he ordered. Dan looked sleepy, his face soft and his hair a tangled mess. His clothes were rumpled from being curled up, and his cheek had a faint imprint of the stitching on Phil’s jumper.

Unsure of what Dan exactly wanted, Phil obediently laid down. By this point, Phil had known Dan long enough that he was accustomed to his slightly bossy tendencies and found them cute rather than annoying. He tried his best to only take up half of the length of the sofa, but he tall and lanky, and wasn’t particularly successful. Dan seemed to have a different idea, though. He pushed and pulled at Phil, manhandling him until his back was pressed all the way against the back of sofa, and he was stretched out from armrest to armrest. 

With a final adjustment, Dan shoved Phil’s arm to the side and crawled back onto the cushions, before finally joining Phil on the sofa. Wordlessly, he laid down with his back pressed against Phil’s stomach, and pulled Phil’s arm around his body.

_This._ This was _magical_ , Phil thought. Their bodies, pressed almost entirely together as they squeezed together on the narrow sofa. Phil could lay like this for the rest of his life and be satisfied.

Phil reached passed Dan to grab the remote off the coffee table and resumed the episode. 

It wasn’t long before he felt Dan’s breathing slow, and Phil _knew_ that his eyes had to have drifted closed again by now. It was getting late — or at least, it _felt_ late because he’d had a long day and he finally felt relaxed — and Phil felt himself nodding off, too.

Phil was startled out of his half-sleep by a sudden hand on his chest pressing him backwards. His eyes flew open, immediately meeting Dan’s warm brown ones just centimeters from his face. 

“On your back,” Dan mumbled.

Phil’s brow furrowed as he tried to blink his brain back into proper consciousness.

“Really, Dan, I don’t mind if you go to bed,” Phil protested quietly, all while rolling onto his back like Dan instructed, once again giving into his bossy tendencies.

“Shhhh,” Dan reprimanded as he settled back down and his head found a comfortable place on Phil’s chest. “I’m still listening to Buffy.”

Phil couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled out of his mouth, his chest rumbling and jostling Dan’s head. “Are you now?” he teased.

“Yes. I’m just resting my eyes.” Dan’s hand clumsily found Phil’s mouth, clasping lightly in an attempt to stop him from talking. “Now be quiet, I think David Borateezey is saying something important.”

Phil pressed a small kiss against Dan’s palm. “Whatever you say, darling” Phil mumbled. His words were barely audible to his own ears, but Phil couldn’t be arsed to care at the moment.

With the warm weight of Dan’s head on his chest, Phil drifted back to sleep.

Sometime later that night — how _much_ later, Phil couldn’t be sure — Phil woke up to find the tv off and Dan cuddled even more securely into him. While they’d slept, Dan’s arm had moved from its place wedged between them to loop across Phil’s stomach, his hand lightly gripping the hem of Phil’s jeans.

In the morning, Phil’s body would surely resent the fact that he’d slept on the couch, and his legs would probably _hate_ having been confined to tight skinny jeans all night, but Phil knew that _nothing_ could make him regret a night of Dan sleeping on his chest. 

And hopefully, this was the first of many nights just like this. 

*******************************

“Ha! Victory is mine!” Phil exclaimed when Dan failed to name seven Canadian provinces in seven seconds. “As the winner of the Seven Second Challenge, I get to play you _whatever_ I want, so here’s a nice throwback to two thousand — um… five?” 

“Four,” Dan corrected, flashing Phil a quick smile that everyone watching the livestream of the radio show could probably tell was filled with _fond_. 

“Okay, then, Mr. Music,” Phil rolled his eyes playfully. “Here’s a throwback to two thousand _four_ ,” Phil conceded with mock-annoyance and a pointed look at Dan. “Enjoy Helena by My Chemical Romance!”

“Phil!” Dan squealed as soon as Phil had turned off their microphones. “You can’t just spring _Helena_ on people like that! People need _warning_!”

“Oops!” Phil shrugged and flashed the live camera a guilty look. He grabbed the whiteboard from the table on the other side of Dan and scrawled a message.

_Dan’s making me feel bad for springing mcr on you guys :(_

Dan took the board from Phil’s hands and erased his message with the stuffed lion on the desk. He scribbled a reply, his left-handedness causing the ink to smear a bit, while he talked to Phil, moving his lips as little as possible.

“How d’ya think the show’s going so far?” Dan mumbled.

Phil eyed Dan’s writing, reading the message just before he turned it around.

_i’m still a 2000s emo on the inside let me live_

Phil dramatically shook his head at the camera, taking the whiteboard from Dan to say something — although he wasn’t sure what — back to their audience.

“Good,” Phil murmured back. “Really good, actually.” He nodded discretely towards the laptop they had pulled up to twitter. “Internet seems happy and,” Phil glanced towards the producer observing them, “Matt looks pleased.” 

Dan smiled wide, first at Phil, then at the camera. “I’m glad,” he said through his grin.

For the rest of the song, and the song after that, Phil continued exchanging whiteboard messages with Dan to entertain their video audience, occasionally referencing tweets from the #AmazingDan trending hashtag.

When the music ended, Phil tabbed over from twitter to his google doc of notes. They’d reached the part of the special he was most nervous about — the _music_ segment. As much as Phil enjoyed music, he wasn’t particularly confident in his knowledge about the current scene (ironic, considering he was a bloody radio dj). He’d spent the majority of this week prepping questions for Dan, and researching artists and albums that might come up during their conversation so that he’d feel less unsure. 

“Hi guys and welcome back to Internet Takeover with AmazingPhil! I’m here with _the_ Dan Howell to talk about everything music, both his and his fellow artists’!”

“Yikes, I’m not an expert or anything, but I’ll do my best,” Dan chuckled in his signature self-deprecating fashion.

“I hate to break it to you, Howell, but you’re a professional musician. I think that makes you an expert.” Phil playfully shook his head at the camera in exasperation. Fleetingly, Phil wondered if calling Dan _Howell_ on live radio had been too flirty.

“If you say so…” Dan laughed again. “So, Philly, hit me with your questions.”

Well, if Dan didn’t consider _Philly_ too flirty, then Phil was probably safe with _Howell_. 

Phil’s eyes flickered back to his computer screen, despite the fact that’d he’d already memorized all of the questions he had for Dan.

“So, Dan,” Phil noticed that his voice had switched into Interviewer Mode, and he wasn’t sure how to shake the professional edge to his tone. “Everyone’s very excited about the fact that you’re working on a new album. What can you tell us about it?”

“I don’t have a release date yet, but it’s coming along well. Cheeky spon, but anyone who is coming to my performance on Saturday night just _might_ get to hear a sneaky preview.”

“Ooooh, lucky people! I wish I was going!” Phil said, playing up his jealousy for the camera. Realistically, whatever Dan felt ready to share with the public was probably something Phil had already heard — and Dan’s eyeroll and playful shake of his head only confirmed Phil’s suspicions. 

“Rumor has it you’re doing a concept album this time. How has working on this album been different from your previous music?”

Dan’s head whipped around to face Phil, completely ignoring the camera. Phil glanced over, only to find a mixture of amusement and shock on Dan’s face. 

Dan quickly composed himself and flashed Phil a smirk, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes.“ _Rumor_ has it, does it Phil?” 

Phil’s brows furrowed as he tried to place what Dan meant. “Yeah…” he said uncertainly.

“Phii _www_ , there’s no _rumor_ about it!” Dan whined indignantly. “You heard that from me, you spoon.”

“ _Fu_ -udge,” Phil caught himself just in time. He had a perfect track record of not swearing on live radio — or any place his viewers could hear him — and he didn’t want to ruin it now. “I’m so sorry! I forgot that no one knows that yet!”

Phil’s cheeks were flushed red, and his eyes were wide. He truly did feel bad for spilling what was apparently still secret information about Dan’s album.

“It’s fine.” Dan shrugged. “I was going to talk about it when I introduced the new song in Germany, but…” Dan trailed off and eyed Phil contemplatively.

“But…?” Phil asked hopefully. If Dan was considering talking about it more on air, then he must not be too annoyed at Phil for bringing it up. But, more importantly, if Dan talked more about it right now, Phil might actually learn something _new_ for fuck’s sake.

Dan’s eyes flickered to the camera and back to Phil. “ _But_ , now that you’ve brought it up anyway, I might as well talk about it now.”

Phil bounced excitedly on his toes, not even needing to exaggerate his emotions for the camera. He’d been _dying_ to know more about Dan’s album for _weeks_ , but the only thing he knew was that Dan was proud of it and hoped that Phil _specifically_ would like it.

A fact that Dan had told him numerous times, and each time it just made Phil more and more and more curious as to what in the actual _hell_ Dan was working on. 

Doing his best to retain _some_ inkling of his radio host persona, Phil turned to his microphone. “You heard it here first, guys! Dan Howell is making a concept album and the concept is…” He trailed off, making a drumroll noise with his mouth.

Dan bumped his hip against Phil’s playfully, giggling. “Enough of that, you dork.” Dan’s laughter died down as he turned to face Phil, completely disregarding the _main_ instruction that Matt and Phil had given him: _always talk to the camera!_

“It’s a really special album to me.” Dan sounded _far_ more sincere than he had just seconds ago. “I feel like it really reflects my life in the past few months and… well, I hope you - I mean—” His eyes flickered to the camera for a split second. “ —um, everyone, likes it.”

There it was again, the pointed comments about _Phil specifically_ liking the album concept.

“I’m sure it will be great,” Phil assured him. If they weren’t on camera, Phil would have reached out to touch Dan, maybe rub his arm or squeeze his hand — _anything_ to show Dan his support.

“The concept is about a process,” Dan continued. Even though he was staring intensely at Phil, his hands were fiddling with the hem of his shirt, giving away how nervous he was about sharing this. “It starts off being about not being happy, about hating what you have and wanting something different.”

Phil’s heart stopped, and hope swelled in his chest. But Dan was being so fucking _vague_ , that Phil wasn’t willing to give into it yet.

“Something different,” Phil repeated, his voice carefully controlled and devoid of emotion.

Dan’s lips twitched into a hint of a small smile. “Yeah, something different.”

Phil’s heart was pounding against his ribcage as he waited with bated breath for Dan to continue. 

Dan cleared his throat softly, his eyes searching Phil’s face for something. “It’s about wanting what you don’t have and fucking _going_ for it.”

Phil’s heart may have been pounding before, but now it was completely _stopped_. Phil couldn’t be sure, not when Dan was speaking in these loose and vague terms, but he was almost _certain_ that he knew what Dan was talking about —

Isabella.

And, well, Phil.

And if that _was_ what Dan was saying, then _going for it_ must mean —

_Fuck._

Phil couldn’t think about that. 

Not right now, not while they were on live radio, streaming their faces online to a massive audience. If Phil thought too hard about what _going for it_ meant, about what Dan essentially making an album — or at least part of one — about _him_ must mean, Phil wouldn’t be able to stop himself from swooping in and finally, _finally_ , kissing Dan.

“I’m, um, happy for you,” Phil choked out after a few too many seconds of silence. “Going for it — that’s, um, that’s good.”

Dan’s eyebrows rose, his playful smile returning. “It’s good, is it Philly?”

“Y-yeah,” Phil stuttered, completely _failing_ at managing to seem poised and not socially awkward on live radio, which had been his _one_ goal for this special. He’d known he’d be an awkward mess if he did this with someone he didn’t know, but he hadn’t anticipated that Dan would make him _this_ flustered on live air. 

“I’m glad you feel that way.” Dan smiled sincerely and, out of sight of the camera, nudged Phil’s foot with his own. The little touch of their feet felt like a promise, a promise that they’d talk, that this meant something, that Phil wasn’t _crazy_ for reading into what Dan had said. 

Phil smiled back, shifting his foot so that the outsides of their feet were pressed together under the table.

The rest of the show, Phil was barely able to keep himself together. Dan’s announcement had completely _wrecked_ Phil’s composure, had derailed all of the conversation points that Phil had meant to hit, had utterly fucked with Phil’s head — and heart, for that matter. 

As much as Phil loved doing the radio shows, he needed this special to fucking _end_ already. He needed a moment to process what Dan had said without thousands of eyes and ears trained on him. He needed a moment alone with Dan.

And, most importantly, he needed to figure out exactly what _going for it_ meant.

What seemed like days, weeks, maybe even _months_ later, they were finally saying their goodbyes to their listeners, and Phil was ready to rip his headphones off and pull Dan into the nearest conference room, supply closet, or loo stall he could find. He wasn’t picky at this point. 

His plan was thwarted, though, when Matt motioned for them both to follow him because he apparently wanted to _debrief_. Whatever the fuck that meant.

They were led into one of the small meeting rooms just down the hall. Phil perched himself on the edge of the table and faced the wall of windows that looked into the hallway, trying his best to look like he was listening to Matt. 

Dan was hovering far away, all the way at the other end of the table, and was eagerly nodding along with whatever Matt was saying. 

Phil looked at Dan a little closer, though, and saw that his eyes looked glazed over, like he wasn’t really listening. This feeling, this _energy_ — Dan had to feel it too.

Hell, Phil was surprised that _Matt_ hadn’t caught on to it.

While Matt raved about how great the show had gone, and how grateful he was that Dan had let Phil be the person to break the story about his _concept album_ on BBC Radio, all Phil could think about was that damn _concept._

That damn concept and all of the implications that it might carry. 

Nearly an _eternity_ later, Matt said goodbye and gave them one last congratulations before he rushed out to another meeting, leaving Dan and Phil alone in the conference room. As the glass door swung shut, Phil’s eyes met Dan’s across the room. 

There was a look in Dan’s eyes that Phil couldn’t place — a look that carried weight that Phil could barely fathom, that he didn’t know how to describe. 

Phil pushed himself off the table. 

Whatever this was going to be, it didn’t feel like a conversation he wanted to have sitting down.

But even though Phil had been _desperate_ to be alone with Dan, _desperate_ to ask Dan a millions of different questions, now that the moment had finally come, Phil couldn’t find the words. Instead, he _stared_ and _stared_ and _stared_ , _waiting_ and _waiting_ and _waiting_.

Time dragged on as Phil stared at Dan and Dan stared back, this distance between them both massive and nothing at all. 

Dan shifted back and forth on his feet, looking equally as lost for words as Phil was. Phil could _feel_ the charged energy between them, waiting for someone to break it, for them to finally allow themselves to _be_. He was tempted to say fuck it, to cross the room and grab Dan’s face between his hands and forego words entirely. But that wasn’t how mature relationships started, and the whole point of waiting, of taking their time, had been maturity.

So Phil had waited. So Phil continued to wait.

“So…” Dan broke the silence, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

“So…” Phil repeated. He shifted his weight to his other foot and shoved his hand into his pocket, twisting it around into an awkward position. 

They were still just looking at each other, holding the other’s gaze with half a room between them.

Someone needed to just _say it_. 

Phil took a deep breath, steeling himself to just _do it_. Phil didn’t look away from Dan’s warm, intense eyes when he finally spoke. “That’s some concept.”

“Mmmm,” Dan agreed noncommittally, a stoic tone to his voice. His eyes scanned over Phil’s face though, clearly looking for some sort of reaction from Phil.

It was now or never.

Phil took a small step towards Dan. His hands were shaking at his sides, so he clenched them into tight fists. “Especially the _going for it_ part.”

“Yeah?” Dan’s lips were tilting up, betraying his calm facade. His voice was betraying him, too — there was an undercurrent of hope and anticipation in his tone that was a stark contradiction to the neutral look his face was so clearly trying to maintain. “What do you think of it?”

The hope and the happiness that had been thrumming just under Phil’s skin for an _hour_ now finally broke free. No amount of anxiety could convince Phil that _going for it_ didn’t mean _exactly_ what he’d thought. 

Phil couldn’t hold back his smile anymore. It spread across his face so widely that his cheeks were positively _aching_ , but he didn’t care. “I fucking _love_ it.”

“Yeah?” Dan asked quietly, his voice higher pitched this time. Hope was radiating from him, his eyes lighting up, and his dimple coming out.

Phil couldn’t believe it — Dan was writing a fucking _album_ about him, and it had taken him _this long_ to realize that _yes_ , Phil absolutely loved it. That Phil was so unbelievably happy that Dan was _going for it_.

“Yeah,” Phil whispered, taking two large steps towards Dan, closing some of the absurd space that was currently between them. There wasn’t an audience of thousands of people now, and Phil really, _really_ wanted to kiss Dan.

Dan mirrored Phil’s actions, moving closer and closer until their bodies, their _faces_ , were just centimeters apart. 

Phil wet his lips, his gaze flickering from Dan’s eyes to his chapped pink lips. When he looked back up, Dan’s eyes had fallen almost completely closed, his head already tipping slightly. Phil followed Dan’s lead, closing his eyes, and tipping his head to the right and —

“Fuck,” Dan exclaimed, stumbling back half a step from Phil and fishing his vibrating phone out of his pocket. “Sorry, Adaline’s travelling and…” His hands were noticeably shaking as he swiped and answered the call. “Hey Addie.”

Phil’s heart was still in his throat, and his body had gone numb with disappointment.

Dan was still so close that Phil could hear Adaline through the phone.

_“Hey Dan, I’m at your apartment, but the doorman won’t let me in because apparently you don’t have me down as a permanent visitor, loser.”_

“Shit, sorry,” Dan apologized, his eyes flicking up to Phil and giving Phil the sense that the apology was as much for him as it was for Adaline. A deep, disappointed frown was etched on Dan’s face. “The producer wanted to talk for a minute, but I’m leaving now,” he rushed to add. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

_“Hurry up, my phone’s nearly dead and I forgot my charger at home.”_

“Okay, okay, I’m coming sis.” Dan hung up, frowning apologetically at Phil. He tugged his lip into his mouth, his bite strong enough to turn his lip white. “I need to go,” Dan said with a disappointed sigh.”Besides,” he added, glancing anxiously over to the glass wall separating them from the public hallway, “We aren’t exactly alone here.”

As if on cue, the intern that worked on Phil’s show came out of loo and walked right past the doorway Matt had dragged them through. 

“Shit, yeah,” Phil muttered, his eyes following the intern down the hall. He knew Dan wasn’t _out_ , and didn’t want to _be_ out — this was the wrong moment. When Phil finally got to kiss Dan, he wanted everything to be perfect. “You’re right,” he agreed. 

He didn’t make any move to step back though.

“I really do need to go, though,” Dan murmured, not stepping back either. He almost sounded like he was apologizing again, or trying to tell Phil that this wasn’t a rejection.

Silence descended upon them and they stood, just a few centimeters apart, staring into each other’s eyes, stuck in the reverie of _each other_.

“That’s okay,” Phil managed eventually. He swallowed thickly as he tore his eyes away from Dan, knowing that unless he did, he was never going to be able to walk away from this moment. “I’ll see you when you’re back.” Phil managed eventually. “Monday right?” 

“Yeah,” Dan nodded slowly. “I’ll text you as soon as I get back to my apartment.” 

Offering Phil an awkward half smile filled with regret, Dan reached for Phil’s hand and gave it a soft squeeze. Reluctantly, he turned and ducked out the door. 

Exhausted from such a rollercoaster of emotions, Phil slumped backwards against the table and dropped his face into his hands. 

They’d been close. So, so, so close to finally _going for it_. 

While Phil would wait for Dan as long as he had to, he’d been _right there_. Now, Monday seemed like an eternity away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like and reblog on tumblr 


	20. 20 (7028 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so fucking excited for this chapter because i wrote the ending of it back before started really writing this story, and it was one of the first pieces of writing I ever sent @auroraphilealis. of course, it grew a shitton and changed a lot from then (when she first read it again she just highlighted chunks of it and was like NO)

At half past three in the morning, Dan spilled into the hotel room behind Adaline, doing his best to keep his composure even though they’d both drank their way through several litres of beer at Hofbräuhaus. 

It was the night after his concert — their last night in Germany — and Dan wasn’t in the mood to police his behavior anymore. He’d done his best to behave himself in public all day, but it was night now, and he was back in the safety of his hotel room, and he didn’t care anymore. 

He stumbled over to one of the beds — the one closest to the bathroom that he _always_ insisted on sleeping in — and pulled his laptop into his lap. Adaline followed behind him, padlocking the door and making her way to the other side of the room. 

They were sharing a standard two bed hotel room, although they could have probably been upgraded to a suite if Dan had just asked the host of the concert. All of Dan’s expenses were coming out of the charity money, though, so he was determined to use as little of the funds as possible. 

Unfortunately for Adaline, that meant that instead of having her own room, she was forced to suffer through Dan’s antics — something that Dan distantly realized was probably particularly painful right now. 

“No, you stupid piece of _trash_ ,” Dan muttered when the computer screen shook and informed him that he had the incorrect password. Dan punched each letter of his password into his keyboard forcefully.

The fucking computer just wasn’t cooperating though. The screen shook and gave him an error message _again._ Dan entered his password a third time, this time saying the letters out loud as he entered them to make sure he typed it correctly. “ _C-o-l-l-i-n-2-0-1-4._ ”

The login screen faded and his homescreen — a picture of him and Darcy smushed cheek to cheek — loaded. Dan glanced up, and saw that across the room Addie was drunkenly trying to wipe her makeup off. So far it looked like she’d just manage to give herself dark raccoon eyes.

Dan opened skype, determined to talk to Phil tonight. Since the radio show, they’d only been able to text and Dan missed his boyfr— _Phil’s_ face. They’d been _so fucking close_ to kissing on that night, and a small part of Dan wished he’d thrown caution into the wind and said fuck the glass wall, fuck privacy, fuck everything, and just kissed him. But in a way, Dan was also grateful to Addie’s phone call for stopping Dan from being _too_ reckless. 

Dan had worried that things might be weird between them, but the only change was that their texts had become impossibly flirtier since then.

When skype loaded, Dan didn’t hesitate to click on Phil’s name. He didn’t even bother to check if there was a blue _online_ dot next to Phil’s name, he just aggressively smashed the button and watched the little _bloop bloop bloop_ light up as it called Phil. 

The skype ringtone rang _once_ , _twice_ , before Phil answered.

“Hi, Philly!” Dan shrieked cheerfully when a grainy Phil loaded on his screen.

The Phil that Dan _could_ see on skype looked soft, cozy, and tired. “Hi, Dan,” Phil mumbled back, much sleepier. “How are you tonight?”

“Good!” Dan responded, definitely a little too loudly if the way both Phil and Adaline jumped was anything to go by.

“I’m glad,” Phil nodded — or tried to, at least. He was laying in bed, his cheek resting on his blue-and-green checkered pillow.

“Y’look tired.” Dan frowned slightly as the skype call got clearer and he was able to take in the way Phil’s eyelids looked heavy, and the fact that his voice was laced with croakiness.

“It’s after two in the morning here, I was asleep,” Phil said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t sound upset though.

“Oh.” Dan’s frown deepened. “Why were ya on skype?”

Phil’s cheeks flushed, and for a moment, Dan wasn’t sure why. Not until Phil explained, anyway. “You’re out of town and I missed you, so, um, just in case, I guess.”

Flattered, Dan bashfully buried his face in his hands and shook his head as he regained his composure. “You’re perfect,” he mumbled into his palms. When he could look Phil in the eye again, Dan looked back up, a wide grin on his face.

“What did y’do this weekend?” Dan slurred, his smile never faltering. He leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand.

“PJ and his girlfriend came up to visit, which was good.” Phil smiled softly, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. The screen turned into a pixelated blur of movement. When skype focused again, Phil was propped up against his headboard. His quiff was messy and his thick black frames were sitting crooked on his face. “Tell me about your night, though.”

“Ads and I went out for beer an’ did a lil’ walking tour on our way back.” Dan precariously leaned off the bed as he reached for the water bottle on the bedside table. 

“Mmmmh,” Phil hummed. “I saw.”

Dan shot back upright, launching himself into the frame. “Ya’ did?” 

“Yeah,” Phil confirmed, looking confused by Dan’s reaction. “I saw your instagram story.”

“Oh fuck,” Dan murmured, more to himself than Phil. He didn’t _quite_ remember posting anything to instagram, but now that Phil mentioned it, he sort of remembered him and Adaline taking a lot of pictures on their way home. Were those instagram pictures? Dan grabbed his phone from the pillow, pressing his finger to the home button over and over, causing the screen to shake in protest. “M’phone won’t unlock,” he pouted at Phil.

“Type your passcode, then, you silly goose,” Phil teased. 

Dan dropped his phone back onto the bed. “I’m lazy. What’d I post?”

“Nothing big,” Phil smiled. “Just a few pictures of beer and you guys at some tourist spots.” Phil’s eyebrows rose skeptically. “Why, did something happen you didn’t want the internet to see?”

“Wah’?” Dan stammered. “I - uh, well. We talked some.” Dan had blurry memories of nearly shouting about how much he liked Phil Lester on the way home and it’d be just his luck to film some monument during one of his speeches.

“It’s all just pictures.” Phil assured him. “No talking.”

“Good.” Dan smiled dopily.

Dan watched Phil’s eyes rake up and down the screen and barely resisted the urge to slap his hand over the webcam. He couldn’t handle being under Phil’s scrutiny like that — not when he couldn’t do something about it. Especially since that _something_ was right on the verge of happening. “I like your outfit tonight, though.”

“Y’did?” Dan asked, looking down at himself. “ _Oh_ ,” he murmured. Dan vaguely felt his cheeks burn, so he grabbed the collar of his jumper and tugged it over the bottom half of his face. “Are y’mad?” Dan asked timidly.

On the screen, Phil blinked back at Dan blankly. “Mad?” 

Dan fiddled with the hem of the _Pugs Not Drugs_ jumper. “Y’know, that I still have your clothes.”

Phil shook his head, and for a long second, Dan was worried that Phil _was_ upset with him. “It looks better on you, anyway.” 

The blush on Dan’s face deepened, and he pulled the sweatshirt even further up, so that the collar was completely covering his head. “That’s n’ true,” he muttered petulantly.

“You don’t know that,” Phil laughed. “You’ve never even seen me wear it.”

Dan yanked the collar down again so he could see Phil again. “I have too!” Dan insisted indignantly. “I’ve seen y’wear it _loads_ on your channel!”

Phil raised his eyebrows skeptically. “I’m pretty sure I wore it in, like, one video.”

“I, um, may’ve watched it a few times,” Dan admitted, his eyes darting around the room shiftily.

“Why?” Phil groaned, his hands shooting up to cover his face. “It wasn’t even that good of a video!”

Feeling particularly brazen because of the alcohol coursing through his veins, Dan confessed the real reason he loved that video so much. “I like watching it when ‘m wearing this jumper.”

Dan let out a triumphant giggle when Phil’s cheeks turned a dark red. 

“Oh m’god, _Dan_ ,” Adaline whined as she marched across the room and over to Dan’s bed. “I’ve heard enough of you gushing ‘bout Phil, ‘nd I don’t need t’hear you flirt with him on skype, too.” She reached for his computer — for what, Dan wasn’t sure. But he knew he didn’t want to find out.

“Then close y’ ears,” Dan grumbled, pulling his computer into his chest and away from Adaline.

“That’s no’ how ears work.” Adaline was just as drunk as Dan — if not drunker — but she managed to grab the computer of out Dan’s hands.

“Hey!!!” Dan protested and lunged for his computer a beat too late thanks to his alcohol-slowed reactions. Adaline had already moved to her bed, and without her weight to catch him, Dan fell to the floor of the narrow aisle between the beds. “Adddddd _ieee_ ,” he whined from the floor, staring up at his sister with wide, betrayed eyes.

“My brother’s an idiot,” Adaline giggled, shaking her head and rolling her eyes to the camera. Dan watched in horror as she spun the computer around to face him and capture his humiliating position on the floor.

“A cute idiot,” Phil added. Even from down on the floor, Dan could see the smile on Phil’s face and the twinkle in his eye.

“ _Gross_ ,” Adaline groaned. “We’re goin’ t’bed. G’night, Philip.”

“Wait!” both Dan and Phil cried as she started to close the computer. 

“Can I say goodnight to Dan?” Phil pleaded hopefully. 

“Fine. Y’get two minutes.” Adaline dropped the computer off the bed and onto Dan’s stomach without warning. 

“ _Ooof_ ,” Dan grunted as the computer landed on him heavily, nearly knocking the wind out of him. “Hi again.”

“Hi there, you drunkard,” Phil greeted with a smile. 

“Rude,” Dan pouted, unable to keep the smile off his face though. 

“When do you get home tomorrow?” Phil asked.

“I think like three. Maybe four, I dunno.” Dan shrugged. “I’m taking Addie straight t’ the train station when we get there, though.”

“Oh.” Phil frowned.

“Wha’?” Dan’s brows furrowed and he moved his head closer to the screen, trying to figure out what was wrong with Phil.

“I got called into work tomorrow evening,” Phil explained.

Dan’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he tried to think of why the BBC would want Phil to come in on a Monday. “What does the BBC want?” 

Phil shook his head. “Beans and Grind, not the BBC,” he corrected. “Emmalee isn’t feeling well so I’m closing for her.”

“Oh!” Dan’s frown twisted into a smile. “That’s easy, then. I’ll try to come visit you.”

A slow, matching smile spread onto Phil’s face. “I’d like that.”

“Two minutes is up,” Adaline called from above him. “Say g’bye to loverboy now.”

“Night night, loverboy!” Dan said eagerly with a dramatic wave to the camera. 

A bright red blush spread across Phil’s face. “Goodnight, dear. I’ll —”

Dan didn’t get to hear the rest of whatever Phil was saying, though, because Adaline leaned off the bed and slammed the laptop lid shut. 

“Fuck you, sis,” Dan grumbled as he pushed himself off the floor.

“Go to bed, bro,” Adaline shot back.

******************************

On Monday afternoon, the shop was busier than normal. There was a large group of hipster uni students working on a group project — marketing, by the sounds of it — and every ten minutes, one of them would come up to the counter to order another pourover coffee (they refused to drink anything else, apparently), which was painstakingly slow to make, and prevented Phil from being able to do much else. He really wished they’d all order at once so that he could make a larger batch. 

Of course they didn’t though, so Phil only had a few minutes of downtime between making each drink. He’d brought his laptop to work with im, hoping that the shop would be slow enough that he could edit the collab that he’d filmed with PJ over the weekend. So far, Phil had only had time to download the footage and import it into the program, though.

If he was going to be distracted from youtube work, Phil would have greatly preferred it to be because of Dan, not hipster uni students.

The truth was, working at Beans and Grind was starting to take up more time that Phil was able to dedicate to it. Over the past few weeks, he had cut back his hours pretty substantially, but it was still burdensome. He’d originally taken the job for a little bit of financial security and so that he’d have a way to make some new friends in London. But Phil didn’t _need_ extra money now — everything was going well with the BBC — and he’d met enough people in London that he didn’t feel so isolated anymore. 

For a long time now, Phil had only kept the job because it was an easy excuse to see Dan. But their friendship had developed — and was teetering right on the edge of something _more_ — and the need for the coffee shop had grown less and less until it was completely obsolete. Now, the only reason Phil kept the job was because of his friendship with Emmalee, and the knowledge that she struggled to find good help.

So here Phil was, working a shift that wasn’t normally his, even though he had a video to edit and a boy he wanted to spend time with. 

Phil hoped the group of hipsters left before Dan came so they could catch up in peace at least.

While Phil waited for the hipsters to leave, and Dan to arrive, Phil found himself growing distracted from working on his video, and watching a recap video of Dan’s performance in Germany instead. The customers weren’t paying him any attention, and Phil really didn’t get a shit about their opinion of him, so he didn’t even bother trying to hide the his earphones. 

Just as Phil had expected, the new song — or snippet of a song, really, since it was only about a minute and a half long — was something Phil had heard before. It wasn’t any of the songs Phil thought Dan might play, though. 

No, it was the slow song, the one he’d written the guitar part on skype with Phil during their first coproductive session. 

_“This song is really special to me,”_ Dan was saying in the video. _“Writing it was really what inspired me to shape my new album around a concept.” The crowd screamed loudly as Dan pulled up a wooden stool and took an acoustic guitar from a stagehand. “I talked about it the other day on BBC Radio, but if any of you missed it, I’m writing a concept album — it’s centered around not liking what you have, about wanting something different, and, really, about just **going** for it.”_

_“It’s a bit different from my other stuff, but I hope you all like it.” Dan smiled weakly, giving away just how nervous he was. “This song is about that middle part — wanting what you don’t have.”_

Of course, Phil had heard the acoustic guitar portion of the song before, but Dan hadn’t shared the lyrics with him yet. When Dan was originally writing the song, Phil hadn’t known that Dan liked him — would never have even imagined that the song might be about, well, _him_.

But knowing that now, Phil suddenly understood why Dan had written _this_ song when they were on skype together. That was well over a month ago, and Dan wasn’t even here, but Phil felt his cheeks growing hot as he realized he’d essentially been Dan’s _muse_ while writing this song. 

Now Phil was getting the full experience though, and finally getting to hear the lyrics. Phil could hear the raw _want_ that Dan was capturing with this song… And now that Phil knew the concept of this album and just how much it pertained to _him_ …

Well, now he was have trouble holding literal _tears_ back. Based on the lyrics, it sounded like Dan was lusting after something and like he desperately wanted something he couldn’t have. And, unbeknownst to the world, that something was _Phil_.

The song perfectly reflected how Phil felt at that time. Apparently Dan had felt exactly the same.

The last chords of the song had barely faded away before Phil restarted the clip and listened to it again and again and again. 

He listened it it so many times over the course of the next hour that he’d memorized the lyrics and could hum the melody from memory alone. 

Phil absolutely loved it, and if this is what Dan’s entire album was going to be like, Phil thought he was going to love it, too.

Afternoon faded into early evening. Much to Phil’s displeasure, the hipsters were still there, and there was no sign of Dan. 

Dejectedly, Phil wiped the counter down and willed Dan to come through the door, even though he’d only promised to _try_ to come by when he got home. The past three days felt like an eternity, though, and Phil _missed_ Dan — far more than was probably reasonable for such a short period of time. 

Three of the students packed up their laptops and messily discarded their dishes on the counter that Phil had _just_ cleaned. Having to do and redo the same damn tasks back to back was Phil’s _least_ favorite part of the job. He moved the dishes to the sink and re-wet his washrag, not bothering to bid the customers a good day when he heard the door chime as they left. 

Phil turned around to clean the counter for a second time, and was met with warm brown eyes, curly hair, and a wide smile. 

“ _Dan_ ,” Phil gasped, his lips turning up into a grin of his own. “You’re here,” he added stupidly. The door hadn’t chimed a second time; Dan must have slipped in while the hipsters were leaving. 

“I am,” Dan smiled. His eyes flicked over to the remaining customers. Phil’s eyes followed Dan’s gaze and he shrugged apathetically. 

“Coffee?” Dan suggested cheerfully.

“Decaf or regular?” Phil asked even as he grabbed a cup and stuck it beneath the espresso spout, anticipating Dan’s answer.

“Regular. You can make it a double instead of a triple, though.”

_Of course._ Phil shook his head in mock exasperation. “You do know that it’s nearly six, right?”

“I had a long weekend and I’m tired, let me live.” Dan’s voice was lower, scratchier, than normal, and Phil could see dark bags shining through what looked to be some sort of concealer under his eyes. Dan’s trip to Germany had been short, and from both his texts and his instagram stories, it looked like he’d been doing stuff nonstop. He was probably desperate to curl up in bed and do nothing — Phil would be anyway.

“You could go sleep if you want,” Phil offered.

“I’d rather talk to you.” Dan winked. 

Phil felt himself blush and funneled his energy into making Dan’s espresso so that Dan wouldn’t see how flustered he was. 

The sun set, the remaining hipsters left, and Dan finished his coffee but didn’t go home. Not long after arriving, he’d pulled a stool over from the other end of the counter so that he could sit as close to Phil as possible. A small fire flickered in the fireplace, casting a warm glowing light onto the pair.

“Did Adaline like Germany?” Phil asked, leaning across the counter to shrink the distance between them even more.

“She _loved_ it! She kept saying it was the best birthday present she’d ever gotten.”

As the evening wore on, Dan regaled Phil with stories from their trip, explaining the context of some of his instagram stories. Every tidbit Phil learned about Dan, about his relationship with his sister, about his eagerness to see the world and help people, made Phil like him _that much more_. 

When his coffee was gone, Dan ordered a second one. It was a coffee that Phil thought Dan definitely didn’t need since it was almost _eight_ at this point, even if this one was decaf, but Dan was drinking it anyway. 

“Anyway, tell me more about your friend’s visit,” Dan said as he leaned in closer to Phil, looking particularly beautiful in the soft, flickering light of the fire. 

“We filmed a couple of collabs, played a lot of board games, went out for a fancy dinner.” Phil busied himself with wiping down the machines and stacking the dishes in the dishwasher. Talking about his weekend with PJ and Sophie without confessing how much time they had spent grilling him for information about his blossoming relationship with Dan was hard. 

“Oooo, did you have good food?”

“No!” Phil huffed indignantly. “We got cheese fondue.”

Dan cocked his head to the side, wrinkling his face up in confusion. “But you hate cheese.”

“Exactly!” Phil cried, his voice coming out higher than normal. “It was awful, I basically just had bread and fruit for dinner!”

“Why’d you go for that, then?”

“Sophie’s birthday — that’s PJ’s girlfriend — was back in February so we were having a belated celebration.” Phil shrugged. “It’s not like you can make someone change their birthday restaurant.”

“No, I —” 

Whatever Dan had been going to say was cut off by the door chime, which jarred them both out of the conversation. Instinctively, both Dan and Phil turned to look at the person entering.

“Fuck,” Dan muttered under his breath as soon as he caught sight of them, swivelling back to Phil and resolutely turning his back on the door.

“That’s…” Phil trailed off, eyes wide in surprise.

“Yeah,” Dan confirmed. 

Phil barely had time to utter a quiet _oh_ before the high-pitched shrieking started.

“I should have known I’d find you here!” The woman’s voice was louder and more shrill than Phil had seen online. Her heels _clack clack clacked_ as she made her way across the coffee shop, coming to a stop just behind Dan. In every picture that Phil had seen of this woman online, she’d looked _immaculate_. But now that he was seeing her in person, she looked a little more _fake_. Phil could see just how much makeup was caked on her face, and there was no way that her nails were naturally that thick or long. 

“Why haven’t you returned any of my calls?” The woman aggressively snapped at Dan. 

Dan shoved his coffee away from himself, but didn’t turn to face the woman. If anything, he slumped even _further_ forward, closing a bit more of the distance between Phil and him.

Phil could feel the wind from the sigh Dan exhaled, could see the subtle shake of his head and the lines forming around his eyes as he squeezed them tightly shut. 

“What do you want, Izzy?” Dan asked in a quiet, resigned voice. He sounded defeated, like he was still upset — maybe even hurt? Phil couldn’t help wondering how Dan felt, couldn’t help wishing that he could _ask_.

“So this is him,” Isabella snapped. She was glaring daggers at the back of Dan’s head. “The _cabrón_.”

That seemed to get Dan’s attention; his back straightened and his already tense shoulders tightened even more. His eyes flew open and he stared at Phil in horror. 

“This is who?” he asked, his back still to Isabella. His tone was tense and came out more like a warning than anything else. 

Isabella’s eyes drifted to Phil, disdainfully raking up and down his body before settling on his face. The intense scrutiny — and her displeased expression— made Phil squirm awkwardly. 

“It’s Phil, right?” Isabella asked, not sounding like she really wanted an answer from Phil — or Dan for that matter. Phil flinched back, surprised by the derogatory tone she was using to talk about _him_ ; she didn’t even _know_ Phil.

Phil was _well aware_ of the fact that Isabella and Dan didn’t have the best of relationships, and had suspected that she was, well, kind of a bitch. And now that he was meeting her, now that he was hearing how she talked to Dan and seeing the way she looked at him, Phil suddenly felt like, if anything, he had _underestimated_ how horrible she was. How _shitty_ their relationship must have been at times. 

How the _hell_ had Dan managed to date her? Especially for almost a year.

“Is this the fag who turned you into a full on homo?” Her face was filled with disgust as she looked back and forth between Phil and Dan. Although Dan had sat up more rigidly, he was still _very_ close to Phil — something Isabella was undoubtedly picking up on, and clearly not very happy about. 

The comment seemed to be too much for Dan, though, because he forcefully stood up, finally spinning around to face Isabella. Phil caught sight of the angry glare on Dan’s face before his back was fully to him.

“Leave Phil out of this, Isabella,” Dan ordered. 

If Phil had felt awkward before, he was downright _uncomfortable_ now. He wasn’t particularly enjoying the way Isabella was talking about him as if he wasn’t in the room. Whatever this fight was, Phil didn’t want to be a part of it — and it sounded like Dan wanted Isabella to focus on something else, too. 

“I’m only going to ask this one more time,” Dan continued tersely. “ _What do you want?_ ”

Phil’s eyes shifted from Dan to Isabella. Her hands were crossed in front of her chest, one hip popped out. 

“I want to get back together,” she said, voice clipped, as if it were obvious. 

From what Phil could tell, she actually looked serious, too. How the hell could she think that was a reasonable request? She’d _cheated_ on Dan!

Dan laughed, but it was a bitter chuckle, not the boisterous happy laugh Phil was accustomed to hearing. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” he retorted harshly.

“Why not? Is it because of him?” Isabella nodded her head towards Phil, who was still frozen in shock behind the counter. God, he _really_ didn’t want to witness this.

“Look, can we talk about this in private?” Dan gestured outside. 

Isabella scoffed. “If you wanted to talk _in private,_ you should have answered my phone calls. Now tell me, is it or is it not because of him?”

“Does it fucking matter?” Dan spat. “I don’t love you, why the _hell_ would I get back together with you?”

“Don’t say that.” If Phil wasn’t mistaken, Isabella sounded _hurt_ , like she was _begging_ Dan to not deny loving her. Phil wasn’t sure what right she had to make such a request.

“I’ll say whatever the hell I want, Izzy,” Dan barked, rubbing his hands roughly down his face with an aggravated sigh. “I _never_ fucking loved you. I was too caught up in my fucking job to realize how shitty of a girlfriend you were.”

“That’s not true! We were happy.” Isabella’s scornful eyes flickered back over to Phil, and he found himself automatically taking a few steps backwards. “Or at least we were before _someone_ came into the picture. Now fucking tell me, is _he_ the reason you broke up with me or not?”

“Are you forgetting the part where you _cheated_ on me?” Dan cried, sounding scandalized. “Or the part where you fucking _used_ me for _months_?”

_Oh._ That was new. Phil had no idea exactly what Dan meant by being _used_ , but he could imagine — and everything he thought of was horrible. 

“I didn’t _use_ you, Danny,” she argued, looking pissed off Dan would even suggest such a thing. 

“Bullshit,” Dan sneered.

Isabella took a menacing step forward. “Whatever. But you didn’t answer my question about this _cabrón_.” Her voice was as harsh and sharp as the sound of her heels _clack clacking_ with the movement. 

“I don’t see it as a question worth answering.”

Isabella scoffed. “I should have known when you told me you liked guys you’d dump me for one eventually.”

Phil’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. What kind of biphobic bullshit was _that_? 

Anger was practically _radiating_ off Dan and the tension in the coffee shop felt thick enough to cut with a knife. Dan’s hands stopped tapping against his thighs, and instead clamped into tight fists by his sides. Phil took a small step backwards towards the backroom, preparing to flee if things got any more heated.

“Holy fucking shit, not _this_ again.” Dan glanced over his shoulder, sending Phil an apologetic look — for what, Phil wasn’t sure. It’s not like Dan could control the crap coming out of Isabella’s mouth. “First of fucking all, I told you I’m _bi_ sexual. That means I like boys _and_ girls. It’s not that hard of a fucking concept. Do you realize how offensive it is to accuse me of breaking up with you because you’re not a guy, even though I like girls, too? _Bisexuality is a real fucking thing, Izzy_.”

Dan’s hands unclenched, only to reach up and pull at his hair. “Second of fucking all, I broke up with you because you’re a manipulative, cheating _bitch,_ and were using me.”

“I only cheated on you because you stopped sleeping with me!” Isabella argued. Something about the way she said it made Phil think she truly believed it was a legitimate excuse. 

Phil sort of knew that Dan had stopped sleeping with her — although Phil wasn’t exactly sure _when_. Still, he couldn’t help but take a _little_ bit of satisfaction in that. Phil _hated_ imagining Dan sleeping with someone else, someone that wasn’t _him_ , even though he knew most of Dan and Isabella’s relationship was based on, well, physical _affection._

“Oh fuck off,” Dan scoffed. “Us not having sex anymore doesn’t excuse you _fucking_ those guys.”

“Are you really going to tell me there was nothing going on with this _pendejo_?” Isabella looked at Phil again. He didn’t know spanish, didn’t know what _pendejo_ meant, but from the tone of her voice — and the hateful look on her face — Phil knew it wasn’t flattering. “You can’t really tell me you’re any better than me! Is he the reason you stopped sleeping with me? Because you were fucking him instead?”

“I _never_ would have cheated on you, and you know that!” Dan shot back, enraged.

“What about now?” Isabella bit out. “Are you with him now? Cause the media seems to think you are and I'm inclined to believe it. Why else would you refuse me!?” Isabella gestured toward herself as if she really couldn't understand 

“That’s none of your fucking business!” Dan practically growled. He moved towards Isabella — a move that definitely would have intimated Phil if he was standing in Isabella’s tall, pointy heels. “You and I are over. The end. Now get the fuck out of here.”

For a minute, Phil wasn’t sure _what_ Isabella was going to do. She was fuming, her face hard and her body tense. From what Phil had seen so far, Isabella had one _hell_ of a temper and the fury etched in her body made him worry that it might escalate even more. 

She was frozen like that for nearly a full minute, but eventually she turned around and made for the door. The echo of her heels on the floor was loud in the tense silence of the coffee shop. 

She only made it halfway there before she turned back around and charged back to the counter, coming to a stop just in front of Dan. She was closer than before, close enough that Phil could smell her sickeningly sweet perfume. Her hand reached out to grab Dan’s, but he pulled back. 

The anger seemed to have dissipated, and was instead replaced with a sad, pitiful look.

“We were on a good path, Danny!” She was pleading now. If Phil could stand her, he’d probably feel embarrassed for her. “The media loved us, your fans loved us! I _miss_ you.”

“I think you miss the media and the fan attention, not me.” Dan laughed coldly. “I couldn’t help but notice that the media has hardly been paying attention to you now that you’re not _Dan Howell’s Girlfriend_.” 

Isabella huffed, and the rage from earlier flickered in her eyes again. Phil genuinely expected her to retaliate.

But she took a few deep breaths and her shoulders deliberately relaxed as she stuck to her attempts to be sweet, maybe even _loving_. “Of _course_ I miss _you_.” Isabella’s eyes were wide and full of what Phil was sure was supposed to be innocence. “I miss every single part of you, Danny.”

Phil fought back a gag — he was pretty sure he knew what _that_ meant, and the implication of it didn’t sit well with him. 

Maybe Phil’s reaction, or Dan’s silence, spurred her on, because Isabella continued talking. “I miss spending time with you, I miss the way you used to hold me, and touch me.”

“Well too fucking bad,” Dan said flippantly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Isabella roared.

“It means I don’t want to ever fucking touch you again,” Dan spat.

Isabella stepped closer, anger creeping back onto her face. “I think you need a reminder of what you’re missing.”

Phil didn’t have time to prepare himself for what happened — and he doubted Dan did either.

Isabella launched herself forward, colliding with Dan and pressing her lips to his. 

How fucking _dare_ she? Phil’s blood positively _boiled_. He _never_ wanted to see Dan kiss someone else and now he was forced to stand here and watch Isabella glue her lips to Dan’s. Isabella had _no_ right to force herself on Dan, to kiss him when he didn’t belong to her anymore. 

Phil hadn’t even had the opportunity to kiss Dan yet, but he still felt _so possessive_ over him. 

Dan was frozen for a split second, completely rigid and not moving. It felt like time stood still as Isabella insistently pressed her lips to a completely immobile Dan, and all Phil could do was _stare._

Something snapped in Dan, though, and Phil watched Dan’s hands come up and land on her shoulders, forcefully pushing her away without hesitation.

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” Dan shouted. “You have _no_ right to kiss me. Get out of my fucking face _right fucking now_ ,” Dan seethed. 

Isabella recoiled from Dan’s touch, flinching back and stumbling on her tall heels. She looked shocked, and the hurt and rage were both back in full force. In fact, she looked more livid, more crazed, than she had thus far. 

“Fuck you!” Isabella screeched, her voice full of venom. “You’re going to regret this, Dan Howell!” 

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel sharply and marched towards the door.

“Unlikely!” Dan roared after her, almost laughing as she stormed out the door.

Once Isabella was gone, the coffee shop fell into silence except for the sound of Dan’s heavy breathing. Phil wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure what to do. He felt like a lot of information — information he wasn’t sure he was supposed to have — had just been dropped on him, and he didn’t know what to do with it.

This wasn’t Phil’s battle, and Isabella was nothing but his almost-boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend, but he was _pissed_. Pissed about the degrading way Isabella had talked about _both_ of their sexualities. Pissed about the fact that Isabella kissed Dan without his consent. Pissed about Isabella’s attempts to justify her cheating and get Dan back.

And he couldn’t even _begin_ to fathom how Dan was feeling right now.

It took almost a full minute, but Dan’s breathing eventually returned to normal, and he turned around, collapsing back on his stool.

“Wow,” Phil murmured when Dan looked up at him. “That was…”

“A giant fucking shitshow?” Dan raised his eyebrows and smiled humorously.

“Well, I was going to say ‘unfair’, but yeah, that works too.” Phil offered Dan what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Phil _desperately_ wanted to reach out and hold Dan’s hand, run his fingers through Dan’s hair. Something. _Anything_. 

But Phil was hyper aware of the fact that they were in public — and that Isabella could come back in at any second — so he kept his hands to himself.

“Sorry you had to see that,” Dan said, sounding genuinely apologetic. 

After all of _that_ , how could Dan’s first reaction be to apologize to Phil? 

“She’s always been too dramatic for her own good,” Dan continued. “Thank fuck there wasn’t anyone else here today. But still, I’m sorry you got roped into it.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.” Phil insisted, unable to understand why Dan was feeling guilty; there was nothing he could have done to stop it. Hell, Dan had tried to stop Isabella multiple times and she’d just _kept going_. 

Dan shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, it sort of is. She’s not, like, entirely wrong.” He averted his eyes. 

Phil didn’t know what to say, and wasn’t one hundred percent sure which accusations Dan seemed to think Isabella had some grounds to make. He wanted to ask, he wanted to _push_. 

But then again, after learning about Dan’s album, and hearing the lyrics to the song he’d written, Phil was fairly certain he could guess which accusation held some truth. 

“Thanks for the coffee,” Dan muttered, looking back at Phil, “But I think I’m going to go home and have something a bit stronger.” Shifting off of his stool, Dan went to walk away. 

Phil wasn’t ready for him to go yet, though. 

“Wait—” Phil said, grabbing Dan’s arm before he could pull completely away. “Let me buy you a drink. You can rant all you want to me if you feel like it.” Phil realized that Dan might want to drop it and focus on something happier, so he softly added, “Or not talk about it. Whatever.”

“Don’t you have, like, work?” Dan asked, gesturing around the coffeeshop.

Phil glanced at the clock. 

“Eh, we’re set to close in half an hour and it’s been dead since those kids left.” Phil shrugged with his free arm. “I think we can afford to close early for one night.” What Emmalee didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

Dan’s eyes flickered down to his arm, which Phil was still holding onto. After only a moment’s hesitation, he nodded slowly. “Yeah... Yeah, okay. That sounds good.” A shy smile grew on his face.

Phil’s lips twitched up into a small smile, relieved that Dan wanted to spend time with him despite still looking riled up from the fight. “I need like ten minutes to close up. Why don’t you grab a warmer coat in the meantime and then we can go?”

“Take your time.” Dan smiled. “Wanna just meet me upstairs when you’re done? Maybe we can, um, have a drink at mine or something before we go out?”

Without his consent, Phil’s eyebrows shot up, betraying his surprise that Dan was _inviting him up to his apartment._

Phil wanted that though. He _really_ wanted that.

“A drink at yours sounds great,” Phil agreed. A drink, a cuddle, a kiss. Whatever. 

“Good,” Dan said with a note of finality. “It’s the building right next door. I’m in apartment 701. I’ll tell the doorman to let you in.” 

“Sure, that works,” Phil smiled softly. 

Dan grinned back, lingering for moment before grabbing his light jacket. He pulled it on, not bothering to zip it up, and smiled — a smile that was filled with excitement and anxiety. 

“See you soon, Philly.” Dan gave Phil a two-fingered salute and ducked out the door.

Phil didn’t waste any time in rinsing out Dan’s mug and adding it to the dishwasher. The counters were clean, but he’d never gotten around to wiping down the table that the uni students were at earlier. He grabbed a rag and the keys, planning to lock the door just in case anyone came. 

Unfortunately, a customer walked in before Phil could make it to the door.

“Hi, welcome! We’re closing in ten minutes, so it’s to-go orders only now.”

“That’s fine,” the woman said.

“Great! What can I get for you?” Phil asked, not so subtly trying to hurry her along. Unfortunately for him, the lady was looking straight at the menu, and didn’t even seem to be aware of Phil. Phil’s heart sank. That didn’t bode well.

“Sorry, I need just a minute.”

“No problem! Just let me know when you’re ready!” Phil said in as chipper of a voice as he could manage and smiled a wide, fake grin despite the fact that he was very, _very_ much annoyed.

Grabbing his phone, Phil hid it below the counter, and quickly texted Dan.

_Sorry a customer just walked in so I might be a little bit longer. I told her we are only doing to-go orders though, so it shouldn’t be that long._

Almost immediately, his phone lit up with a reply.

_dw take your time_

“I’ll just have a toasted crumpet, please,” the lady finally said a moment later, thankfully quicker than Phil had honestly been expecting.

“That’ll be right up!” Phil replied quickly, and took the last crumpet from the display case in order to drop it in the toaster. Mentally, Phil urged the toaster to cook faster.

While the woman’s order heated up, Phil glanced back at his phone and saw another message from Dan.

_not too long though plz_

Phil couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face in response, because it was clear that Dan was just as impatient for _whatever_ was about to happen as Phil was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: come scream at me! i will wait to post asks with spoilers for 24 hours though :) 
> 
> like and reblog on tumblr 


	21. 21 (12.5k)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: look we all owe @auroraphilealis a massive thank you because she stayed up until 1:30am her time editing with me because i’m a stubborn asshole of a nightowl who was determined to post tonight

Twenty minutes later, Phil stepped into the lobby of Dan’s building — or, at least, he _hoped_ it was Dan’s building. There were apartment buildings to the right and left of Beans and Grind, and Dan hadn’t specified which. Phil had guessed purely based on the fact that he’d watched Dan turn left out of the shop more often than not. 

The lobby was nice, fancy in a way that the miniscule entrance to Phil’s building wasn’t. It wasn’t ostentatious, though; it was sleek and modern and, really, looked exactly like the kind of building Dan would live in. In the center of the room, a man in a black suit was perched in a chair behind a tall desk.

“How can I help you?” he asked, setting his book down to address Phil. 

“Um, I’m here to see Dan Howell?” Phil requested anxiously. The entire evening had wracked Phil’s nerves, and suddenly having to interact with a _doorman_ was almost too much. “He said he’d tell the doorman to let me up?” Phil said, unsure of how this worked. He’d never been in an apartment building that was nice enough to have a doorman for security, much less one that could let guests in and out of residents’ flats.

The doorman pulled a book out from under the table and turned to a table entitled _Howell_. “ID?” he requested.

Phil fumbled in his wallet for his ID and nearly dropped it as he placed it on the desk. It seemed to take _forever_ for the man to copy down his license number. Phil’s nerves were already shaken from the fight he’d just witnessed, from the anticipation of visiting Dan’s flat, from the excitement about what might happen there. He really didn’t need the added stress of not knowing how Dan’s fancy building worked.

The doorman slid the book across the desk, gesturing for to Phil to sign next to his name and license number. The page in book was labeled _temporary guests_ , and contained list of names and signatures of other people that must have visited Dan’s flat over time. The neighboring page had a short list of permanent guests — it looked to only be Dan’s family (three different _Howells_ , including Adaline), and Louise Pentland.

And a crossed out Isabella de la Renta. 

Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Phil hoped that someday his name would get to fill in her spot on the list.

The doorman closed the book and handed Phil his ID back. “Right this way, sir,” he said, voice curt as he led Phil to the lift. Phil watched as the doorman inserted a key and pressed the seventh button, baffled that the doorman had to use a key just to let someone onto Dan’s _floor_.

 _Jesus_ , Phil knew that Dan was famous, but that seemed like an absurd amount of security. 

However, when the doors opened, Phil realized that the security wasn’t to keep people out of Dan’s _hallway_ , it was to keep people out of Dan’s _flat_. Rather than opening into a floor with several residences, like Phil had expected, the doors opened directly into Dan’s foyer.

Unsure of what the protocol was when you stepped off a lift and into someone’s _apartment_ , Phil tentatively hollered, “Hello?”

From somewhere down the hallway, Dan yelled, “In the lounge!”

Phil shuffled forward, but hung awkwardly by the foyer door that led into the rest of Dan’s flat. “Erm, I don’t know where your lounge is…”

There were a few loud, clumsy footsteps, followed by Dan’s head peeking around the corner. “Sorry, I’m a terrible host. Come this way.” Dan jerked his head to the right before spinning around and leading Phil through the door. 

Obediently, Phil followed Dan into the next room, trying his best to take in his surroundings without _loitering_. The hallway had pictures hanging all the way down it, but Phil couldn’t tell what they were from here. There were doors, too, cracked open into rooms that Phil couldn’t quite see.

Not wanting Dan to think he was snooping, Phil hurried to catch up. 

When Phil entered the lounge, Dan was already standing at a bar cart.

“I decided to be productive while I waited for you,” Dan said, gesturing to a pitcher of clear liquid. “Gin and tonic okay?” he asked, even though he was already pouring two drinks. 

“Sounds great,” Phil agreed. He didn’t particularly care what they drank — in fact, he would almost prefer they abandoned the drinks all together, seeing as he was determined to have things happen with Dan when they were both sober.

And tonight, well… Phil had a feeling about tonight.

But Dan _had_ had one hell of an evening, and Phil totally understood why he wanted a drink tonight. Hell, drinking together had been Phil’s idea, so it’s not like he could really protest.

“Let’s sit,” Dan suggested. He made his way over to the couch and sat the pitcher of alcohol down on the coffee table. 

All day, they had been toeing a line, precariously teetering right on the edge of a cliff. And now that Phil was finally alone with Dan, now that they were in the privacy of Dan’s flat, Phil wasn’t sure how to push things along — or even _if_ he should push things.

How much space was appropriate to leave between them?

Dan solved Phil’s problem, though, by sitting down right in the middle of the sofa, meaning that wherever Phil sat, he couldn’t possibly be very far from Dan. 

That was just fine by him. 

As Phil sat on the couch, he finally took in his surroundings. 

Judging from the grand foyer, he’d expected the lounge to be lavish. However, this room was much more intimately decorated; the sofa was worn in and appeared to have a permanent crease on one end, and the bookshelves were stocked full of nerdy knickknacks and movies, all arranged in perfectly balanced clutter. 

The room was mostly monochrome, with pops of color from the trinkets on the bookshelves and an abundance of plants. Unlike Phil’s television, Dan’s gaming consoles were arranged neatly, and he couldn’t see any of the wires or controllers. Everything hanging on the walls seamlessly tied into the rest of the decor.

“Your plants all look so much happier than mine, it’s not fa _ir_ ,” Phil whined. The was an oversized pot of cacti on the coffee table and they all looked like they were _thriving_ — a sharp contrast to the pitiful, small cactus Phil had next to his kettle.

“Maybe that’s because I actually water mine,” Dan teased with a cheeky smile.

“Shut up,” Phil mumbled. He covered up his slight embarrassment by taking a sip of his drink. 

In an attempt to shift the topic away from his inadvertently murderous tendencies towards houseplants, Phil nodded at his drink and said, “It’s great, thanks.” 

His viewers gave him enough shit about killing plants; he didn’t need it from Dan, too. 

As Phil took another sip, he looked closer at the bookshelves. By this point, Phil was well aware of the fact that Dan was a nerd, but it wasn’t until he actually got a good look at Dan’s bookshelf that Phil realized just _how_ big of a nerd Dan was. There was an entire _shelf_ dedicated to merchandise from Guild Wars, not to mention the plethora of anime figurines. The bottom row of shelves were all dedicated to movies, video games, and board games, several of which Phil owned himself, but some of which he’d never even heard of.

There would be time to dissect Dan’s possessions later, to look over every single item on the shelves and hear the stories behind all of the knickknacks. Right now, though, they needed to talk about everything that had happened with Isabella. Or not talk about that, and talk about _them_ instead. Or not talk at all and fucking _kiss_ already.

Or something. Anything but ruminating in this tense, expectant silence.

“So…” Phil started, but lost his nerve after only a word.

“So…” Dan responded, flashing Phil a soft smile. “Should we talk about what happened down there before we move on — like far, far away from that topic?”

Phil shrugged. He wanted to hear what Dan had to say — and _desperately_ wanted Dan to put some of the things that Phil had heard into context — but he didn’t want to put any pressure on Dan. Phil only wanted Dan to talk if _he_ wanted to talk, not because he thought he owed Phil anything.

“It’s up to you,” Phil said gently, offering Dan what he hoped was a reassuring smile. 

Dan pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands, and flashed Phil a chagrined look — a look that softened all of Phil’s leftover anxiety from the fight. 

Dan drew a deep breath, a bold determination in his eyes. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” Dan said, humble and genuine. “It wasn’t exactly my finest hour.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Phil assured him. “If I were in your place, I’m not sure I could have restrained myself any better.” 

Phil cut himself off from saying anything else though — even though he was keen on the idea of going on a massive diatribe about how awful Isabella was now that he’d met her. But Phil wanted to give Dan the space to talk, to bring up whatever he wanted.

So Phil stopped talking, waiting in patient silence for Dan to continue. 

Dan sighed, and shifted his attention to a loose thread in his ripped skinny jeans. His fingers tugged and pulled, and Phil was worried he was going to make the hole bigger. 

“She brings out the worst in me,” Dan muttered, staring down at his lap. “I swear that’s not how I usually am.” 

“I know,” Phil murmured sincerely. 

Months of knowing Dan had proved that to Phil. Dan was kind and sweet and caring. The Dan that Phil had seen earlier that night, the Dan that screamed and fired shots at people, was nothing like the Dan that Phil knew. And Phil felt like he knew Dan _very_ well by this point. 

“Don’t feel like you have to talk about any of that just because she decided to share private stuff in front of me, though.” Phil reached out and stilled Dan’s hand, running his thumb over the back of Dan’s hand before pulling away. 

“No, it’s fine,” Dan sighed. He brought a hand up and ruffled his hair, shifting so that he was fully facing Phil. Dan drew his legs up between them so they were criss-crossed, but it didn’t leave much room between him and Phil. As a result, Dan’s knees — and most of his shins — landed on top of Phil “We should probably talk about it. I mean, it’s kind of important I think.”

Phil opened his mouth – to say what, he wasn’t sure. But he wanted to say something to indicate to Dan that _yes, downstairs is important to us_. So, _so_ much of it seemed relevant to _them_. Phil wanted to understand everything that was wrong with Isabella, wanted to know just how deeply Dan’s wounds ran. Phil wanted to make sure that he’d never hurt Dan in the same ways that _she_ had.

And, secretly, Phil _desperately_ wanted to know if there was any truth to Isabella’s claim that he had a part — no matter how big or small — in the end of Dan and Isabella’s relationship. 

“I’m getting the sense I don’t know the whole story behind your breakup with Isabella,” Phil settled on after several seconds of silently gawking at Dan.

“Um, no,” Dan agreed sheepishly. “I guess I’ve brushed over a few of the details.”

“Why’s that?” Phil wanted to _understand_ — to understand everything about Dan, everything about his past. Shifting a bit, Phil turned so that he was facing Dan, too, one leg sliding between them, still underneath Dan’s. This felt like a conversation they should be properly looking at each other for. 

Dan took a long sip of his drink but he had a contemplative look on his face, and Phil knew he wasn’t avoiding the question. “Some of it I just wanted to let go, didn’t want to focus on it anymore.” The liquid in Dan’s mostly-full glass threatened to spill over as he spun it back and forth between his hands. “I was an idiot when it came to her, in a lot of ways. I guess I didn’t really want to admit the full extent of it.”

“How so?” Phil prompted, although he could imagine a few ways Dan had been idiotic when it came to Isabella.

Dan shook his head, and pursed his lips, his eyes flitting up to the ceiling for a second as he seemed to collect his thoughts. 

“For the longest time, I told myself that it was fine that we were totally different people. That it was _good_ that we had different ideas of a fun evening because it pushed me to do more.” Dan sighed deeply before continuing. “It took me a long time to see, but eventually I realized that she wasn’t really interested in me, just in _Dan Howell_ and the fame and the perks and the money that came with it. The worst part is that everyone could see it before me.”

Phil frowned. After hearing some of the things that Isabella had said to Dan, Phil couldn’t say he was surprised that Isabella was interested in Dan for reasons that weren’t… _Dan_ , but he was a bit shocked that Dan hadn’t initially been aware of it. 

“No one tried to warn you?” 

A blush rose from Dan’s neck all the way to the tips of his ears and, _oh_ , maybe people _had_. 

“Not quite in those words,” Dan admitted. “But it was clear that no one liked her. Every time I saw Louise, she would complain about how awful Isabella was.” Dan shook his head and rolled his eyes — he at least looked a little amused at himself. “Hell, even my mum couldn’t stand her and she’s likes _everyone_.”

“Yikes,” Phil chuckled. “That’s never a good sign, is it?”

“Nope, not at all,” Dan conceded. He brought his glass up to his mouth, and fished an ice cube out with his tongue instead of taking a drink. The room was quiet for a moment as Dan thought, except for the soft _crunch crunch crunch_ of Dan chewing. 

“I don’t know why I couldn’t see it,” he finally continued. “I mean, she never wanted to just _hang out_. She was always pushing to go somewhere, somewhere we could be seen or get expensive dinners or jump the lines at clubs or whatever.” Dan’s hands waved wildly around him, his frustration evident. “It just… wasn’t me.”

The confession didn’t come as much of a surprise to Phil as he thought it should have — not with all of the clues he’d seen. Phil could still remember all of the pictures Isabella had posted online of her and Dan out _doing things_ , the way Dan had made it clear over and over again that he was a massive introvert — two things that didn’t seem to fit together well. 

And then there was the phone conversation that Phil had overheard the first time Dan had ever come to his flat, when Isabella demanded that Dan come out with her, and forced him to talk to the bouncer when he refused to leave Phil’s.

With each confession, Phil was able to piece together more and more of what Dan’s day to day relationship with Isabella must have been like, and it was looking worse by the second.

“I think I can count on my hands how many times she willingly came to my flat to just, like, _relax_ ,” Dan continued before Phil could say anything. “Fuck, you’ve already been here longer than she ever wanted to stay.”

Dan leaned forward and set his glass on the table — a glass that was still nearly half full, Phil noted. 

_Good_. 

As much as Phil knew he couldn’t police Dan’s behavior, Phil really, _really_ wanted Dan to be sober tonight. 

Phil took a deep breath and steeled himself to ask a question that he wasn’t sure he wanted — could _stomach_ — the answer to. “Why did you stay with her, then?”

The blush that had previously calmed down on Dan’s face came back in full force. Dan’s sudden embarrassment put Phil on edge, already confirming what he’d suspected.

“I liked having the, um, you know, physical stuff.” Dan looked away and stared steadfastly somewhere behind Phil. “For a long time, I knew what we had wasn’t great, but I thought it was _good enough_.”

Phil scanned Dan’s face, trying to make sense of the masked emotions he saw. It was hard, though, because Dan still wasn’t looking at him. 

He needed to see, he needed to _know_. 

Phil set his drink on the table next to Dan’s and tentatively reached out to cup Dan’s cheek, guiding his head so that he looked more directly at Phil. Dan’s eyes flicked to meet Phil’s gaze, and his lips quirked up into the ghost of a smile. Phil couldn’t resist stroking his thumb over Dan’s cheek, dipping down to where he knew his deep dimple would form if Dan smiled just a bit wider. 

Not wanting to push Dan’s limits too far right now — and not wanting to distract too much from the conversation they were having — Phil slowly, reluctantly, pulled his hand away from Dan.

“What changed?” Phil whispered.

Dan reached out and caught Phil’s hand in midair. Flipping his palm over, Dan intertwined their fingers, letting their hands fall to the sofa between them. Dan’s head followed the movement, his gaze fixating on where they were touching.

“I realized what it _could_ be like.” Dan peered up at Phil through thick eyelashes. “That if just being _around_ someone, without all of the physical stuff, was so fucking _good_ , then —” Dan swallowed thickly, his eyes shifting away and back down again, “— then things with Isabella definitely weren’t _good enough_.”

“Oh,” Phil muttered, practically speechless at the implications of what Dan was saying. Or at least, what he _thought_ Dan was implying — he wasn’t exactly speaking in the most concrete terms at the moment. Phil was _pretty_ sure Dan was talking about him, but if Dan wasn’t… well, Phil didn’t want to make an idiot of himself because of a _pretty sure_ assumption.

“So, did, um, someone in particular make you realize that, or…?” Phil trailed off, losing his courage to complete his already weak and ambiguous question.

To Phil’s surprise, Dan threw his head back in the loud, boisterous laughter that Phil had come to know and love, and sent Phil an incredulous look.

“Stupidity isn’t a good look on you, Phil,” Dan said, his voice _dripping_ with fondness, a smile so wide that his dimples were _canyons_. There was no bite to the words, nothing but pure _affection_ radiating from Dan.

Realizing how fucking _obvious_ it was, how ridiculous of a question he’d really asked, Phil broke down into laughter as well. On instinct, his free hand flew up to shield his mouth — and the tongue he knew tended to poke out when he laughed too freely. 

Dan’s other hand was right behind Phil’s though, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling it _down, down, down_ , away from his mouth and all the way to the sofa. “Stop that,” Dan murmured softly, manhandling Phil ever so slightly so that both pairs of their hands were intertwined. “I like looking at your mouth.” Dan’s eyes flickered up from where he was looking at Phil’s lips, where Phil’s tongue was undoubtedly peeking out, up to his eyes. “And the rest of you.”

The smile on Phil’s face grew, and he lost all concern for how _silly_ , how _lovestruck_ , he must look. But he didn’t care if Dan realized how happy he was — fuck, he _wanted_ Dan to know.

He wanted Dan to know that he made Phil the happiest he’d ever been.

“Cheesy isn’t a good look on you, Dan,” Phil quipped back, teasing. 

Truthfully, cheesy was a _great_ look on Dan — a look Phil wanted to see forever, if possible — but he wasn’t about to tell Dan that right now.

Dan rolled his eyes and softly tugged on Phil’s hands to pull him closer, the space between them growing smaller and smaller with every centimeter that Phil fell. 

“Shut up,” Dan mumbled as he swooped in and finally closed the last bit of distance between them by capturing Phil’s lips with his own.

Phil _melted_ , sinking into the sensation and letting himself get lost in the feeling of Dan’s lips on his. Phil leaned closer and pressed more firmly against Dan’s lips, their mouths moving in a slow rhythm. He was vaguely aware of the way that his stomach was flipping over, the way his heart was _swooping_ , the way his breath was _catching_ , but Phil was so fucking concentrated on the way that Dan’s lips felt against his that he could barely pay attention to anything else.

The only thought that Phil could register was _finally._

With what was probably more fierceness than necessary, Phil ripped his hands from Dan’s, and reached up to cup his cheeks and hold him firmly in place, to pull his face impossibly closer.

A quiet groan tumbled out of Dan’s lips, almost completely muffled by Phil’s mouth. 

_Fuck_ , that was _hot_. The noise caused Dan’s lips to part slightly and Phil took advantage of the opportunity, slipping his tongue between Dan’s lips; Phil slowly worked Dan’s mouth open, exploring every bit of it. 

Dan was fast to respond, clearly just as eager as Phil, and tangled his tongue with Phil’s, not necessarily fighting for dominance, but not quite yielding submission either. They gave and they took, taking turns caressing and exploring each other.

Warm hands pressed to Phil’s waist, almost immediately slipping just underneath his jumper. Ever since that day in the coffee shop when Phil had gotten to feel Dan’s hands on his bare skin — back when Dan had innocently helped untangle Phil from his sweater — Phil had obsessed over what it would feel like to be touched by Dan in the heat of the moment. What it would be like for Dan to run his hands over him, to kiss him, to _caress_ him.

Right now, though, Dan’s hands weren’t exploring Phil’s body — they weren’t roaming up and down his chest or looping around his back and dipping below the hem of his jeans. But that was fine, because they _were_ gripping Phil’s hips tightly, Dan’s fingernails digging so fiercely into Phil’s skin that they would certainly leave marks.

Marks that Phil would _happily_ bare later. Marks that Phil would probably stare at and fantasize about when Dan wasn’t with him anymore.

Phil didn’t want to think about later, though. He wanted to focus on _now_. He wanted to focus on the way Dan’s lips were moving against his, and the way that Dan’s breath danced across Phil’s cheeks. 

Above all, Phil wanted to focus on _Dan_. 

Both of their breath was turning ragged, though. Kissing Dan couldn’t last forever. Phil could feel Dan gasping for air, and Phil knew he was losing the battle with his lungs. 

He pulled back, but he didn’t go far.No sooner had Phil separated their lips than Dan’s forehead crashed into his, Dan’s breath coming in fast, hot pants across Phil’s cheeks.

Phil’s eyes flew open from the impact, and he was met with the serene sight of a blissed-out looking Dan. His eyes were still closed, his lips parted and twitching up at the corners. On Phil’s hips, Dan’s fingers relaxed, just slightly, his hands slipping down to rest in the crevice of Phil’s lap. 

Dan’s breath slowed, finally returning to something that resembled a normal pace, and his eyes fluttered open. 

“Holy shit,” Dan muttered.

“Yeah,” Phil agreed stupidly, his voice coming out breathless and weak. His hands fell from Dan’s cheeks, coming to rest on his shoulders.

“That was…” Dan trailed off, opting to close his eyes and tip his chin forward again instead of finishing his sentence. He pressed another tender kiss to Phil’s mouth and their lips melded together for a soft moment.

When Dan pulled back again, he only left a hair of distance between their lips. Phil could feel every one of Dan’s breaths, and he savored it, his eyes closed as he took in the tender moment. It took a moment before their eyes drifted open, almost at the same time, and met intensely.

“Yeah,” Phil repeatedly dumbly, his lips brushing against Dan’s when he spoke because they were still _so close_. 

Dan’s hands slid up again, dipping back under Phil’s sweater and lightly brushing back and forth against the skin of Phil’s hips. The sudden sensation was a shock to Phil, and he squirmed, unable to help his reaction to Dan’s ticklish touch. A high pitched giggle escaped his lips without his permission, breaking the charged moment. 

Dan’s hands stilled for a moment, his eyes flying open even wider in surprise at Phil’s reaction. 

“Oh dear,” he giggled. His fingers tightened against Phil’s sides, and then dug in harder, beginning to tickle Phil with more intention. 

Phil squeaked, squirming uncontrollably in an attempt to get away from the touch, while laughter bubbled up from his lips.

“Oh _dear_ ,” Dan repeated, a grin spreading wider and wider on his face, his dimples growing deeper. Phil could hear the childish, taunting _delight_ that was laced in his voice, and almost, _almost_ , forgave Dan for tickling him. “Someone’s ticklish, huh?” he teased, laughter interrupting his words and completely dissolving the sharp tension that had built between them just a moment before.

But it felt good. Despite the fact that Phil couldn’t stop laughing, and his sides were beginning to hurt from the overwhelming _tickling_ , the moment felt good. In all of the people that Phil had dated, he’d never been with anyone that he could so easily bounce from exhilaratingand hot, to silly and playful, and he absolutely _adored_ it. 

“Shut up!” Phil gasped around his laughter. “You already knew that! You figured this out when you were drunk! You don’t need to keep proving it,” Phil pleaded, reaching down to battle Dan’s hands.

Without warning, Dan’s fingers suddenly moved, right out from under Phil’s searching hands, until they were wiggling their way further into Phil, making him shriek with laughter. 

“Stop, stop,” Phil cried through broken breaths. His face was flushed, and he couldn’t seem to open his eyes, he was laughing so hard. Thankfully, Dan’s movements finally came to a halt, and Phil’s body collapsed in relief. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Phil moaned, panting for breath. His hands fell to his sides as he worked to get himself back under control. 

In front of him, Dan giggled, but didn’t say anything. Phil pouted, expecting an apology, but it never came — because in the next moment, Dan’s hands found Phil’s sides again, and returned to their assault. He grazed his fingers up and down, brushing Phil’s ribs and just shy of his armpits, digging his fingers in deep to get Phil going again. 

“Fuck — Dan —” Phil gasped, struggling under Dan’s touch. Dan’s hands just kept _going_ , and Phil could feel his abs beginning to hurt from the onslaught of laughter. Dan’s hands moved to Phil’s stomach, taking advantage of the moment, and Phil had finally had enough. Desperate to stop the onslaught of tickling on his sensitive stomach, Phil managed to place his hands on top of Dan’s, and force them to still against his skin. 

He gulped in air as Dan laughed at him, his eyes crinkled up in amusement, and his dimple huge in his cheek. 

“You’re the worst, Howell,” Phil complained, but despite being disgruntled about Dan laughing at him, Phil found himself grinning as well. He couldn’t help himself - not when Dan looked so happy being able to tease Phil.

“You’re cute, Philly,” Dan said quietly with a soft smile as Phil started to get his breath back. His eyes flitted over Phil’s face, and his fingers flexed back and forth against Phil’s body until Phil’s grip loosened and he let go. 

Using his newfound leverage, Dan wrapped his hands more firmly around Phil, sliding around to his lower back and pulling him forwards, forcing them even closer on the sofa. “I like you a lot,” he murmured, the intensity from a few moments ago rushing back.

“Do you?” Phil asked with a smirk, no longer doubting Dan’s feelings for him. 

“Yeah,” Dan said, his voice lower and huskier than it was seconds earlier. “I do,” he confirmed, leaning in and kissing Phil once more, lingering against his lips longer than necessary. “What are you going to do about it, Lester?” Dan teased, right up against Phil’s mouth. 

Phil didn’t even have to think about it. After all of the flirting, the talking, the _waiting_ , Phil didn’t have it in him to hold back for another second. Not if Dan was willing to _go for it_. 

“This,” Phil whispered against Dan’s lips before closing the miniscule distance between them, and kissing Dan more passionately, more heatedly, than anything they’d shared yet. 

Dan kissed back, matching passion with passion, heat with heat. It was slow at first, but it built and built, until suddenly their hands suddenly unable to stay still. Dan’s hands slid up from their spot on Phil’s lower back, tracing along his spine and pushing his jumper up as they made their way higher and higher. Cold air rushed over Phil’s skin, and Phil felt a violent shiver course down his spine — but he wasn’t sure if it was from sudden exposure to the air, or from Dan’s touch.

If Phil had to guess, though, he would reckon it was because of Dan.

Desperate to get more of Dan, too, Phil reached behind Dan’s head, cupping the back of his neck in one hand, pulling him impossibly closer, and tangling his other into Dan’s curly locks. 

After all of the marathon nights of Buffy where Dan had encouraged Phil to play with his hair, Phil should have been prepared for Dan’s reaction, been prepared for the high pitched whimper Dan let out when Phil knotted his fingers in Dan’s curls. 

But he wasn’t. Nothing could have prepared Phil for the satisfaction he felt from pulling those noises from Dan, from turning Dan on, from the way Dan quietly gasped Phil’s name. It all went straight to Phil’s groin.

The little amount of control that Phil had had over his impulses disappeared, and suddenly he felt himself pushing and pulling at Dan all at once. With a fervor that Phil hadn’t felt in years — had arguably _never_ felt — he pulled at Dan’s shoulders, yanking him closer until their entire upper bodies were flush and Phil could feel Dan’s heart pounding in his chest. Almost simultaneously, though, Phil _pushed_ , tipping Dan backwards, guiding him _down, down, down_ , until his back crashed into the sofa and he gave a soft _oomph_. 

Dan went without protest; his only response was to tighten his grip on Phil’s hips and pull him down, too — it wasn’t necessary, though, because Phil had every intention of chasing Dan into the cushions anyway.

Together, they tumbled into the sofa, Phil falling on top of Dan, his arms caging Dan’s head as Phil braced himself on his forearms. His hands returned to Dan’s hair, tugging just a bit. With what seemed like no thought at all, Dan’s legs spread apart, giving Phil room to settle between them. Suddenly, their hips were pressing together.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dan gasped. He tore his lips from Phil’s, and tipped his head far back, giving Phil a perfect, up close view of his long, beautiful neck. 

Phil wanted to trace every bit of it with his tongue, to explore every piece of Dan’s body.

Unable to help himself, his body on tingling with desire, Phil leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dan’s exposed throat, kissing lightly from the base of his chin all the way to the jut of his collarbone. It wasn’t until Dan let out a long, mangled moan that Phil latched on properly, seeking out a pulse point on Dan’s neck and _sucking_. 

Dan might have moaned before, but the noise he let out when Phil drew the skin of his throat into his mouth was downright _pornographic._ Beneath him, Phil felt Dan’s hips cant up, pressing into Phil’s forcefully. This time, they both moaned as their rapidly hardening cocks rubbed together through their clothes. 

It felt good — _more_ than good. The warmth of Dan’s body, the firmness of his cock, the vibrations of his moaning, they all felt positively _delicious_ beneath Phil. And for a moment, Phil lost himself in the intoxicating pleasure of _Dan_. 

The tight pressure on Phil’s hips dissipated as Dan loosened his grip and his hands slipped backwards, wrapping around Phil and drifting lower and lower until the tips of his fingers were dipping to Phil’s waistband, grazing the top of his arse, pulling his hips down more forcefully.

“Shit, _fuck_ ,” Phil gasped as their cocks collided again, the friction of their jeans and the grinding movement causing a burst of arousal to shoot through his entire body. 

It felt great — _sinfully_ great. Something that Phil wasn’t sure he could truly have yet, though. He needed to stop this before it got out of hand. He needed to give them both a chance to hold back, at least for a _little_ bit longer. They deserved that — they deserved more than fast and sloppy on Dan’s sofa.

Phil tore his lips away from their place on Dan’s neck, and forced himself to pull his hips away from Dan’s.

The new position didn’t seem to suit Dan, though. His hips followed Phil’s up, seemingly chasing the heady feeling of grinding together. 

“Wait, Dan,” Phil panted. “ _Fuck_.” His hands flew from Dan’s shoulders to his hips, forcefully pressing them _down_ into the sofa, restraining Dan’s movements and giving him no choice but to stay still. 

Phil’s insistence must have registered with Dan, because he stopped fighting and his eyes shot open to look at Phil. “What?” Dan asked, a note of panic creeping into his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Phil rushed to assure him, his breath still coming out in sharp exhales. “I just — _fuck_ ,” Phil’s resolve waivered, and he let his head collapse forward onto Dan. He pressed a long, lingering kiss to Dan’s chest, right above his pounding heart. _God_ , Phil really didn’t want to stop — not even for a second. But what he had with Dan was too precious, too _new_ to risk. “I don’t want to go too fast.”

“Oh,” Dan murmured. He sounded shocked, almost _disbelieving_ — something that made Phil’s heart hurt for Dan in a way he hadn’t anticipated. 

Phil pressed himself further upwards so that he could properly look at Dan. When Phil leaned back, he saw that Dan’s eyes were blown wide in lust, and his eyebrows were raised in surprise. 

Phil’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips. Dan was _right there_ , so unbelievably close, and _not kissing him_ was taking an immense amount of restraint. But Phil was determined to do it.

“You’re too important.” Phil whispered, his voice raw with emotion that he hadn’t had the chance to express to Dan yet. 

Dan’s eyes widened.

“You think so?” he asked, sounding vulnerable and timid. 

Not missing a beat, Phil dipped down and kissed Dan again, moving their lips languidly together. He kissed him thoroughly, trying to convey just _how_ important Dan was to him through their kiss alone. He moved slowly, gently prying Dan’s mouth open and caressing Dan’s tongue with his own. Phil kissed him until they were both running out of breath again — something that didn’t take long since they were both already _so close_ to being short of breath.

“I know so,” Phil promised when he pulled back. 

Dan’s hands shot from their place in Phil’s waistband to cover his face, but Phil caught sight of Dan’s red cheeks and bashful smile before his face disappeared. 

“Ph _iwww_ ,” Dan whined, his voice coming out muffled through his hands. The tips of his ears were tinting red, too, and Phil wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of eternity flattering Dan enough that he got _this_ adorably flustered. 

It was tempting to lean back down his elbows, to pry Dan’s hands away from his face, to surge forward and continue kissing Dan. But Phil was determined to start this relationship _right_ , and that meant finishing the conversation they’d started earlier — and clarifying exactly _what_ Dan wanted now that they had finally given into each other.

So instead, Phil pushed himself onto his hands, then his knees, and then dragged himself all the way into a sitting position. He glanced down and saw that his cock was still straining against his jeans — that would just have to _calm down_ , because now wasn’t the moment. 

“Come on, sit up,” Phil urged gently. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around Dan’s wrists, pulling them back softly. 

Dan gazed up at him with wide eyes and pink cheeks, a frown forming on his lips, his bottom one sticking out in a way that made Phil desperate to lean down and suck it into his mouth. It took every bit of Phil’s willpower to not _give in_. 

“I don’t wanna,” Dan whined petulantly, pointedly staying horizontal. 

If that boy wasn’t so fucking cute, Phil would probably murder him. 

“Too bad,” Phil teased, using the leverage he had on Dan’s wrists to pull him into a seated position. They were close, closer than they had been when they initially sat down on the sofa — closer than when they’d first kissed, even. 

Phil could feel Dan’s breath on his cheeks, and his eyes flickered down to Dan’s lips again. They were swollen from kissing, redder than they normally were. And _fuck_ , he just looked downright _kissable._

Forcing himself to behave, Phil pushed backwards and put just a few more centimeters of space between them.

“What do you want from me?” Dan pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Finish talking,” Phil murmured, giving into _some_ of his desire to touch Dan by letting himself reach up and run his fingers through Dan’s hair. Dan’s eyes fluttered closed, and his pout twisted into a soft smile, his arms falling back to his sides 

“Please,” Phil urged, when it seemed Dan wasn’t going to do as he’d requested.

Dan’s eyes opened, but he sighed, his face scrunching up in confusion. “About what?” 

“The fight, Isabella.” Phil shrugged helplessly, not knowing exactly what to demand from Dan. “All of it.” 

“I don’t know how much more there is to say.” Dan shrugged, his hand seeking out Phil’s and intertwining their fingers. “You’re amazing, Isabella sucks. The end.”

Phil frowned slightly at the way Dan had seemingly closed off since their earlier conversation. He didn’t like it. He knew it might not be fair, but he wanted a full explanation from Dan. He wanted Dan to tell him _everything_. 

“What?” Dan asked, a note of defensiveness creeping into his voice when all Phil did was stare.

“You don’t _have_ to talk if you don’t want to,” Phil implored, even though he very much wanted Dan to talk. “But you said it was important earlier and, well, I agree. I want to know what happened — all of it.”

“Why?” Dan asked, and it was clear that he really didn’t understand Phil’s motivation in getting Dan to talk. Phil sighed, and squeezed Dan’s hand.

“I want to be different,” he whispered, looking down at their hands, feeling vulnerable.

“You already are, Phil.” Dan squeezed tightly in return. Slowly, Phil looked up, taking in the sincerity on Dan’s face, and swallowed. 

“Good.” Phil leaned forward and pressed a slow, tender kiss to Dan’s lips, trying to show Dan what he was feeling. Slowly, he pulled away, and sat all the way back up, after just a few seconds. Talking was important, and Phil didn’t want Dan — or himself — to get too caught up in kissing again. He still wanted more of an explanation.

Phil cleared his throat and tried to shift them back to their conversation. “You were planning to break up with Isabella before she cheated on you.” It wasn’t a question — Phil knew that much for certain.

“Right,” Dan confirmed. “I was going to do it the next morning.”

“Was it just because she was using you?” It wasn’t until the words were out of Phil’s mouth that he realized how _minimizing_ it must have sounded. “Not that that wasn’t a good enough reason to break up with her!” Phil rushed to add. “I just — was that it?”

Staring downward, Dan silently shook his head.

Phil bit is lip. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t want to tell me?”

“The full truth feels too heavy,” Dan confessed, still addressing their laps.

Needing to see Dan’s face, his _eyes_ , Phil cupped his chin and forced Dan to look up, but he refused to meet Phil’s gaze. “What do you mean?” 

Dan sighed, but he relented, giving into Phil’s insistent pushing. “It felt easier to simplify everything down to the fact that Isabella cheated on me.” Dan gave a small shrug of his shoulders, biting his lip between his teeth. 

“As opposed to what?” Phil pushed.

“It was easier than saying that she was a manipulative _bitch_ who only dated me for money and fame.” Dan’s gaze flicked away, settling on the potted cacti on the table. “And that, in the end, there was some truth to all of her accusations.”

“What do you mean?” Phil’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Isabella had accused Dan of a lot — not _really_ liking girls, cheating, breaking up with her because of Phil… But Phil couldn’t tell if any of it was _true_.

“All that biphobic bullshit she was spouting — she’s been going on about that bullshit since I came out her.”

“Wow,” Phil breathed, unintentionally interrupting Dan. “That must have been really difficult, being with someone who didn’t respect your sexuality,” Phil elaborated when Dan’s stared at him blankly, eyebrows raised.

“It’s whatever, and like, not true. I mean, obviously I wasn’t _doomed_ to leave her for a man just because I like _dick_ , too.” Dan forced an awkward laugh. “But she wasn’t entirely wrong about you.”

“About me?” Phil asked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected this to really come back to _him_. 

“Yeah,” Dan said sheepishly. “About you being, like, part of the reason I broke up with her. And would never consider getting back together.”

“But we never…” Phil cocked his head and shrugged his shoulder, hoping Dan would get what Phil meant — that they never _did_ anything. 

“I know. But that doesn’t change the fact that the feelings were there. So like I said, in a way, she was right. I wasn’t any better to her than she was to me,” Dan said dejectedly.

The idea that Isabella had somehow convinced Dan that he was in the wrong churned in Phil’s stomach, making him feel uneasy.

“Are you kidding me? No. Absolutely not,” Phil fought back fiercely. 

Dan looked up in shock at Phil’s raised voice. 

“You’re so much better than her,” Phil insisted. “Sure, there were some feelings. That’s kinda shitty. But you didn’t act on them — fuck, you didn’t act on them for an entire _month_ after you’d broken up! If _that_ doesn’t make you a better person, Dan, I don’t know what does.” Phil’s voice was just shy of shouting by the time he was finished.

“I _wanted_ to act on them, though,” Dan argued, defeated.

“Trust me, I did too.” Phil shook his head despondently. “But we didn’t. And that’s what counts.”

“I guess.” Dan grabbed his drink from the table, draining the remaining half of it. He looked exasperated and annoyed, a flicker of the heat from his fight with Isabella back in his eyes. “Jesus, I’m just so fucking — ugh.”

“What?” Phil couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at Dan’s sudden change in demeanor. Following Dan’s lead, Phil picked up his drink and finished it.

“She just sucked _so fucking much_ ,” Dan ranted. 

Reaching up, Phil carded his fingers through Dan’s hair again, and sighed softly. “Complain as much as you want, I’ll listen,” Phil offered sincerely, although a bit of humor still seeped into his voice. 

“She was just so fucking _self-obsessed_ ,” Dan groaned, the feeling of Phil’s hand in his hair not even enough to calm him down, and Phil let it fall away.

Before saying anything more, Dan refilled both of their drinks, and handed one to Phil. “All she ever did was talk about herself and push for doing things that would help _her_ public image,” Dan groused. “She’s literally the most selfish person in the world. And you know the dumbest part?” Dan chuckled humorously. “She always tried to pretend it was to help my public image too, but she never seemed to care that _I_ didn’t care about that. That wasn’t _me._ ”

“Mmm,” Phil hummed, trying to hold back his own anger at the woman. Dan didn’t need Phil chiming in about her being a bitch. But… well, Phil could at least say something. “Sounds like she was too busy loving herself to really love you.”

Dan froze, his glass halfway to his mouth. Phil watched as he stared, wide eyed, and could do nothing more than stare blankly back.

“What did you say?” Dan demanded.

“Er,” Phil stuttered, trying to remember exactly what he'd said because it seemed to important to Dan, for some unfathomable reason. “Something about her loving herself too much?”

“Fucking brilliant,” Dan muttered, more to himself than Phil. “ _Love yourself_.”

Without saying anything else, Dan lunged forward and sweeped a small notebook from the shelf under the coffee table. It was a notebook that Phil recognized; he’d seen Dan scribble in it countless times — but never in direct response to something Phil had said.

Dan usually was pretty private with his notebook of lyrics, normally shielding the page from Phil’s view when he added to it. Tonight, though, the notebook was on full display; it was opened to the very first page, which only had two words on it.

_album title????????????????_

Beneath the series of question marks, Dan messily scratched two more words.

 _love yourself_.

As if Phil wasn’t closely watching Dan’s movements, Dan flipped the notebook around so Phil could see it properly. Phil took in the words on the page for a second, before shifting his gaze up to Dan’s face. He was biting his lip so hard that it was turning white, and his brows were furrowed.

“Can I use that?” Dan sounded nervous.

Phil’s jaw actually dropped. “As an album title?”

“Yeah,” Dan answered meekly. “And maybe a song lyric, too.”

“O-of c-course,” Phil stuttered. He was having trouble processing the fact that Dan was inspired by anything Phil said, much less that Dan wanted to use it so _prominently_. “Why that, though?”

Dan’s gaze flickered down to the notebook. “Do you really want to hear me go on a full music rant right now?” Dan asked warily, looking back at Phil skeptically.

“Always,” Phil promised, smiling sweetly at Dan. He meant it — anytime that Dan shared his thoughts, his _music_ , with Phil, Phil felt himself fall a little further. 

Dan thumbed through the notebook, not stopping at any particular spot but skimming the pages. “It just seems appropriate. Like, on the one hand, I already can see writing a song with that as the chorus, and screaming that Isabella should go _love herself_ is _so much better_ than the two words I’ve been using recently. But also, I feel like it just… I dunno, captures the meaning of the album?”

Dan held up a finger, wordlessly telling Phil to _wait_ , and took another drink from his glass before continuing. “This whole album, at its core, is really about being a little selfish, and doing what’s right for _me_ , and _love yourself_ really sums that up.”

For almost a full minute, Phil was struck silent. There was a certain kind of wisdom in what Dan had said that Phil hadn’t really thought about before. It seemed so _obvious_ , and yet, was something that most of the world — Phil included — so often overlooked. The fact that Dan had grabbed that sentiment, and made an entire album around it? That was really something. 

“I think you’re amazing, Dan,” he managed to mutter eventually. “And I think you should be as selfish as you want.”

“That’s good to hear.” Dan said, his smile twisting into a smirk, eyes twinkling. Phil’s brows furrowed, unsure what that expression could mean.

“Why’s that?” Phil asked, his head cocking to the side.

“Because if I’m really being selfish,” Dan said cheekily, “I just want _you_.”

All of Phil’s resolve to continue talking about Isabella, about everything that had gone wrong, about how Dan was feeling, drained away in an instant.

Words completely failed Phil. 

He didn’t know how to properly communicate just how _much_ everything Dan had said meant to him — the fact that Dan _had_ sort of left Isabella for him, the fact that Dan was writing an album for him, the fact that Dan being selfish meant being with Phil.

So instead, Phil surged forward, insistently pressing his lips to Dan’s. He couldn’t help himself, kissing Dan deeply, his hands coming up to fist in Dan’s shirt.

“I just want you, too,” Phil murmured against his lips, barely pulling away to speak.

“We’re a good pair, then,” Dan mumbled back, slamming their mouths back together and effectively putting an end to any more talking.

There was nothing more that they needed to say with words, anyway. After so long of being _so close_ , they just needed each other. They needed to feel and kiss and touch. 

They’d talked for months. And they would have months and months to talk later.

But now, tonight wasn’t about talking. Not anymore. Tonight was about giving in, about finally letting themselves be everything that they’d wanted for so long.

Completely disregarding his earlier decision to not push _too_ far, _too_ fast, Phil let his hands fly from Dan’s shirt to his shoulders, because if Dan was going to be selfish, then Phil thought he might as well be too. The distance between them suddenly seemed _unbearable_ , and Phil pushed Dan _back, back, back_ , until he was laying down on the sofa again, his head landing with a soft _thump_ near the armrest. 

Dan didn’t miss a beat. 

Mid-tumble, Dan’s hands found Phil’s waist again, wasting no time in slipping under his sweater and thumbing across the soft cushion of his sides.

“Fuck,” Dan muttered when their lips parted ever-so-slightly from the impact of their fall. His head tipped back, once again exposing his long neck, and Phil realized that this must be another hotspot for Dan.

Phil’s suspicions were confirmed when he shifted down, licking his way down Dan’s throat and fixating on the soft, fleshy spot where his neck met his shoulder. Phil sucked harshly, his teeth grazing Dan’s skin, and was rewarded with a deep, loud moan.

He wanted to find _every single spot_ that elicited noises like that from Dan.

“Someone’s sensitive there, hmm?” Phil teased, echoing Dan’s words from when he’d tickled Phil earlier. 

“Fuck—” Dan gasped in a shattered breath, “—off.” 

The deep moan that accompanied Dan’s exhale made Phil think that Dan wanted anything _but_ Phil to retreat.

Wanting more of Dan’s moans, Phil bit down, just hard enough to shock Dan’s senses, before licking and sucking at the sensitive skin again.

“Jesus on a fucking _tricycle_ ,” Dan muttered, his breath coming out in broken whimpers. “How do you fucking _know_ already?”

Phil giggled into Dan’s neck, so unbelievably _happy_ that he’d found someone that he could relax with, have _fun with_ , even when they were in the middle of something so _hot_.

“Come back here,” Dan demanded, his words slurred and voice hushed. One of his hands slipped out from Phil’s sweater and landed in his hair, tugging roughly to redirect Phil’s lips to his own. “Kiss me, you spoon,” Dan muttered before he pulled Phil’s head down and crashed their lips together.

And so Phil kissed him. He opened himself up to Dan, brushed his tongue alongside his, and soaked in what he’d been missing for so long. Finally getting to kiss Dan was like heaven, and Phil couldn’t get enough.

Dan’s lips were plump and warm and just barely chapped; they moved in perfect synchrony with Phil’s, his tongue darting out and dancing at just the right moments.

Sometime while they were sinking into each other, kissing and just _being_ , Dan’s hands made their way up to Phil’s back, pushing his sweater up along the way. 

“Can I?” Dan asked breathily as he tugged the hem of Phil’s sweater further upwards.

It took a moment for Dan’s words to register, but when they did, Phil pulled his mouth away from Dan’s to breathe, “Wait, hang on.” 

It took more effort than Phil wanted to admit, but he managed to at least get his mouth off of Dan’s, though he didn’t get very far. His lips found Dan’s throat as he said, “I want to take this at your pace.”

“Take — what — at my — pace?” Dan asked, his words coming out in short staccatos, matching the beat of Phil’s mouth against his skin.

“You,” Phil kissed Dan’s throat, unable to help himself. “Me,” _kiss_. “Us,” _kiss_.

For a moment, there was no response. And then Dan pushed his head into the sofa, forcing Phil’s mouth away from his skin, and stared up at Phil. Their gazes finally met again for the first time in what felt like ages. 

“Phil, I’m in,” Dan said, his lips quirking up into a small smile. “I’m _all_ in.”

Phil’s eyes went wide. For all of a second, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, wasn’t _sure_ if Dan meant what he meant, but as he stared at Dan, stared at the way Dan’s body seemed to be _giving in to him_ , Phil realized that he _did_.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Phil cursed. “Me too, Dan,” he gasped, crashing their lips back together. He pushed into Dan’s mouth, kissing him fervently, suddenly desperate for _more more more_. But before Phil could really get into the kiss, Dan pushed him away again. 

“Sweater,” he huffed as he tugged at the hem. “I want it gone. Please.”

Not missing a beat, Phil pushed off his elbows and extended his arms, balancing on his hands so that Dan had the freedom to push the sweater up and over his torso. The thick knitted material temporarily blinded Phil as it covered his head, but then Dan pulled some more, and Phil could see again. Phil lifted up one hand after another, letting the sweater fall from his arms, and watched as Dan shoved it off the sofa. 

Beneath him, Dan was staring up, pupils dilated and lips swollen. “Come here,” Dan ordered, his fingers tangling in the fine hairs at the back of Phil’s neck and yanking him _down_. Phil’s eyes clamped shut, his lips slamming into Dan’s. He let himself _kiss_ , just for a moment, before he remembered that he had a bigger priority at the moment.

“No,” Phil grumbled against Dan’s lips. With the little leverage he had, Phil tried to push himself back up. 

When Phil opened his eyes and looked down, he saw Dan staring up with startled, wide doe eyes. A small smirk on his face, Phil shook his head and shifted his weight some so that his hands could slip down to Dan’s hips.

“Fair is fair,” Phil huffed, tugging on Dan’s jumper and trying to pull it up and away from his body.

Dan relented; his hands fell from Phil’s neck and pressed into the sofa beside his hips. His back arched up, letting Phil slide the soft knit jumper up his body. Seamlessly, Dan let his back fall and raised his shoulders when the jumper was high enough, letting Phil pull it free from his body entirely. 

Spread beneath him, Dan looked _radiant_. His chest was soft and smooth, and just slightly tanned. Phil’s eyes were drawn down to Dan’s nipples, prominent nubs against the flat expanse of his chest. Every _fiber_ of Phil wanted to _touch_ , wanted to stroke up and down Dan’s chest, wanted to thumb over his nipples and feel the jut of his collarbone.

So Phil let himself. 

He pushed himself upwards, balancing his weight on his knees and simultaneously forcing their hips together _harder_. His hands slunk up, landing on Dan’s chest and catching himself. Staring down in wonderment, Phil let his hands roam up and down, caressing every part of Dan’s bare skin that he could. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Phil breathed.

Dan flushed bright red, only this time, Phil could see the way the blush spread all the way down his chest and reached the bottom of his ribcage. 

“You’re prettier,” Dan argued, his hands rising up to Phil’s stomach, searching over Phil’s skin like he was trying to memorize the landscape of Phil’s torso. Dan’s touch was white hot, sending electric thrills up and down Phil’s spine that had him desperate to grind his hips down into Dan.

They’d come this far, they’d been so patient for so long, that Phil couldn’t resist just _some_ inkling of the pleasure that he craved. He let his hips fall, let their crotches rub together, let their clothed cocks touch.

“Agree to disagree,” Phil panted in Dan’s ear. 

A deep groan tumbled from Dan’s lips and Phil suddenly flashed back to that day in Beans and Grind when he’d called Dan a _good boy_ , and the way that Dan had reacted. 

Praise.

Dan clearly liked praise.

And Phil was _more_ than happy to give it to him. 

“You’re amazing, Dan,” Phil murmured, latching onto the tender skin beneath Dan’s ear and sucking, drawing the pliant skin into his mouth and nibbling at the soft flesh. “I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have you.” 

“ _Shit_ ,” Dan gasped, hips arching into Phil’s at the praise.

Phil pulled back from his neck and took in the serene, euphoric look on Dan’s face. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back, spine arched enough to force his shoulders off the sofa. His soft, pink lips were parted, quivering, his tongue pushing against his front teeth.

Fuck going slowly. Fuck propriety. Fuck chivalry. 

Phil wanted to worship every _single_ centimeter of Dan that he could see.

With renewed determination, Phil slid himself down, letting his mouth finally fall beneath Dan’s collarbones, and dip below where his shirt normally hid. 

“God,” Phil muttered as he kissed down Dan’s chest. “You look _so fucking good_ beneath me.” 

“ _Mmm_ ,” Dan moaned incoherently. His hands stilled, his fingernails digging into the soft skin of Phil’s side. 

Phil’s lips trailed farther down, landing on the erect nub of Dan’s nipple and biting lightly, just to see Dan’s reaction.

It was a good reaction — better than Phil ever could have ever imagined. Dan’s hips thrusted up, uncontrollably smashing into Phil’s, and a loud keen was ripped from his throat. 

Dan was a loud person. His laugh was loud, his voice was loud, his _personality_ was loud. 

Phil should have known that his _sex_ would be loud, too. 

Suckling at one nipple wasn’t enough though — not for Phil and, based on Dan’s whimpers and tugging hands, not for Dan either. Eager to give Dan all that he could, Phil kissed his way over to Dan’s other nipple, giving it the same tender, biting attention.

Dan writhed under Phil, his hips wriggling against Phil’s crotch and causing their cocks to grind together.

Despite Phil’s best efforts to maintain his composure, the sudden assault of Dan’s hips on Phil’s had him _collapsing_ against Dan, letting his hips _crash_ down and his forehead fall to Dan’s chest. 

A sharp tugging at the nape of Phil’s neck pulled his head upwards, making him look up at Dan’s face. 

“The sofa—” Dan panted, “I can’t.” He raised up, kissing Phil heatedly, moving their lips together so hurriedly Phil thought they might be in a race. “Bed—” Dan gasped. “Now, please.”

 _Fuck_.

There was no way Phil could refuse a request like that from Dan. Not when Dan looked _this_ docile, _this_ soft, _this_ turned on.

Wordlessly, Phil pushed off of Dan and held his hand out, silently beckoning Dan off the sofa. Dan didn’t hesitate; his hand grasped onto Phil’s and he used the weight of Phil to pull himself to standing.

“Let’s go,” Dan muttered. He didn’t let go of Phil’s hand, instead opting to pull Phil behind him, dragging him down the hallway and through a darkened doorway.

Desperate to get to see Dan — whatever this night would let him see, anyway — Phil fumbled on the wall, searching for a light switch.

“Don’t,” Dan ordered. In the dark of the room, Phil could only feel the warm grasp of Dan’s hand linking around his wrist, pulling it from the wall and back to Dan’s waist. “Just come here.”

Dan’s hands were on top of Phil’s, holding them firmly to his waist, as he stepped backwards and guided them towards the bed. 

At the last minute, Dan spun them around and forced Phil to fall backwards onto the bed. For a split second, Phil was disappointed that the weight of Dan didn’t immediately crash on top of him — until the soft light of a bedside lamp filled the room, that was. It casted a more subtle, intimate light than the overhead light that Phil had looked for, and he was grateful for it.

Standing between his legs and looking down at him, Dan looked so soft, so fragile, in the warm light of the lamp, and Phil wanted nothing more than to ravish him.

“Come here, beautiful,” Phil begged, his hands reaching out for the hem of Dan’s jeans. They found purchase, and he tugged Dan down. The sudden movement caused Dan to tumble forward and fall into Phil, their bare chests lining up, their hips crashing together.

“You’ve been so good for so long,” Phil whispered huskily, speaking right next to Dan’s ear. “What do you want, baby?”

Dan’s forehead fell forward, his mouth desperately nipping at Phil’s neck. “Anything,” he mumbled. “Whatever you’ll give me.” His voice was high pitched and desperate. 

Phil’s cock twitched, heat pooling in his stomach. 

“Let me up,” Phil urged. He pushed gently on Dan’s chest and forced him upwards until he was perched on top of Phil, straddling his hips. 

Phil’s hands drifted down, coming to rest on Dan’s waist, and tipped him over. Dan went willingly, falling into the bed and wrapping his legs around Phil in the process, effectively forcing Phil to follow him down.

“ _Phil_ ,” Dan moaned. Warm hands looped around Phil’s shoulders and pulled him closer — though Phil wasn’t sure how they could _possibly_ be touching more than they already were. Dan’s head fell back again, and Phil dove in without further invitation. 

Kissing down the side of Dan’s neck, Phil could feel Dan’s hurried pulse, could feel his fast breath, and it was all positively intoxicating. Phil was certain that there was nothing better than _this_ , than having Dan squirming beneath him.

Or that was what Phil thought until Dan’s hand’s slipped from Phil’s back, at least.

Suddenly, Dan’s hands were tracing hot trails down Phil’s back. Trails that didn’t stop, trails that were unimpeded by the barrier of Phil’s jeans. 

No, Dan’s hands kept _going_ and _going_ and _going_. They brushed over Phil’s lower back and dipped straight below the hem of his trousers, completely forgoing his pants and reaching straight for his bare arse.

Phil already didn’t have any resolve left, but the feeling of Dan’s hands on his naked butt absolutely drove him _wild_. 

Abruptly, Phil pushed himself off of Dan, kneeling upright between his legs so that he had access to Dan’s entire body. Phil’s hands flew to Dan’s zipper, working the button between his fingers without pushing it through the hole.

“Can I?” Phil asked. Even to his own ears, his voice was deep and scratchy — he could only imagine what it sounded like to Dan.

Clearly, though, Dan wasn’t turned off by Phil’s voice. “Please,” he begged. His hand reached out, too, and landed on Phil’s trousers. His fingers slipped beneath the hem and toyed at the button. “But only if I can, too,” Dan teased with a smile, a weak attempt at banter during the heat of the moment. 

“Whatever you want,” Phil promised shamelessly, slipping Dan’s button through the hole, and almost simultaneously feeling the relief of his own jeans loosening.

Before Phil could do anything else, Dan pushed him away by the hips, forcing him to stand up at the edge of the bed. Dan’s hips canted up as he slipped his hands beneath his own trousers and pulled them down, taking his pants with them. When they were far enough down Dan’s legs, Phil reached for them, tugged the tight fabric over Dan’s slender legs and away from his body entirely. With absolutely no regard for what were probably expensive jeans, Phil dropped Dan’s clothes to the bedroom floor and sought out Dan again.

“Off,” Dan commanded, his hands reaching for Phil’s trousers and sharply pulling _down_. Phil happily obliged, tugging his jeans and pants over his arse and down his thighs, all the way down to his ankles. Two kicks of his feet, and then Phil was entirely free of his clothing.

He stared down at Dan, finally realizing that this was it. That they were both completely _naked_ together, that they were finally about to be able to explore each other in a way they’d never been able to before.

“Phiw,” Dan pleaded. His arms extended and he made grabby hands at Phil, urging him closer. “I need you.”

Phil was powerless to resist Dan’s pleas, equally desperate to have their bare bodies _finally_ laying against each other. Phil fell forward and landed on top of Dan softly, his elbows just barely catching him before he knocked the wind out of Dan.

Dan’s hands immediately sought purchase on Phil’s hips, quickly roaming to Phil’s more private parts. One hand slid backwards, wrapping around to cup Phil’s arse, while the other slid forward, just barely grazing Phil’s inner thigh.

Phil’s cock throbbed with desire. If Dan’s hand was just a centimeter or two over, he’d be grasping onto Phil — something Phil wanted more than anything in this moment.

Well, _almost_ anything.

Above all else, Phil wanted to touch Dan. He wanted to give Dan what he hadn’t gotten in months, what Isabella, hopefully, couldn’t ever really give him.

“Touch me,” Dan begged as his own hand reached down a little more, and settled firmly on Phil’s cock.

For a brief moment, Phil couldn’t breathe, much less concentrate on doing anything for Dan in return. Slowly and steadily, Dan’s hand dragged up Phi’s cock, squeezing lightly at the head before trailing back down. His grip was tight and rough, in the best possible way, and Phil had to fight to maintain his composure.

“Phil,” Dan desperately urged.

Phil’s eyes snapped back to Dan’s, took in the way his pupils had blown wide, the way he was biting his lip, _pleading_ with Phil, and that was all it took to pull Phil back from his delirious bliss. Pushing up on one elbow, Phil reached down between them and took the base of Dan’s cock in his hand. His hand slid up, pulling the foreskin back and thumbing over Dan’s slit. A bead of precum leaked out, and Phil smeared it down, using it to smooth out his movements. Dan was long and heavy in Phil’s hand — better than Phil could have imagined.

In response to Phil’s touch, Dan’s hand began to pick up speed, gliding up and down Phil’s cock faster and faster as Dan seemed to become overwhelmed with pleasure. Phil could feel tension building in him, could feel the way his stomach was tightening and his balls were drawing up, but he wasn’t ready. 

He wasn’t ready. Not _yet_.

He was far too worked up from months of pining, of _waiting_ , to be able to hold out the way he wanted to, so Dan needed to _stop._

“Slow down,” Phil said, his breath coming out in sharp heaves. “I don’t — not yet,” he begged. “I have a better idea.”

Phil let go of Dan, and knocked Dan’s hand out of the way. Determined to hold out, to not give into pleasure quite yet, Phil grabbed Dan’s wrists and pulled them up and over his head, pinning them to the bed.

“Can you be good and keep your hands up here for me?” Phil asked, but it came out like more of a demand.

Apparently, Dan liked that, though. His eyes widened, his pupils growing even larger, his hands shaking in Phil’s firm grip.

“Yes,” Dan gasped, his hips thrusting up against Phil’s. 

“Good boy,” Phil praised. He released Dan’s wrists and brushed his hands _down down down_ Dan’s body, finally coming to rest at his hips. “You look amazing,” Phil murmured, taking in the sight of Dan’s long, leaking cock. 

Now that Phil had touched, now that Phil had _been_ touched, he couldn’t resist either feeling. So rather than picking — his cock or Dan’s — Phil seized both of their cocks in his hand. It was a good thing his fingers were long, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to wrap around both of them. As it was, his fingers didn’t meet his palm.

It was good enough, though. Tonight, Phil didn’t want to fuck Dan — well, he _did_ , but this wasn’t the right moment. Tonight was about exploring, about finally being able to feel each other and indulge in the feeling of each other.

And the feeling of their cocks pressed together, the pressure from Phil’s hands squeezing them tighter, pulling up and down their shafts — it was sheer _heaven_. 

Hands still above his head, Dan thrusted up into Phil’s grip. His movements were just slightly out of time with Phil’s strokes, creating even more friction on both of their cocks. Phil met Dan thrust for thrust, stroking them both as best as he could, even though they were both rapidly coming undone.

In just a few more strokes before Phil could feel himself reeling toward the edge again. Every graze of his hand against his cock, every twitch of Dan’s cock against his, pushed Phil closer and closer toward the precipice. 

“ _Shit_ ,” Phil gasped. His hand instinctively squeezed at his base, tightening around Dan too. “I’m — fucking — close.” 

Hands still above his head, Dan’s hips thrusted up, jarring Phil’s hands back into movement, and he resumed a slower pace up and down their cocks.

“Me too,” Dan moaned. “Please, just — _more_.” 

Dan’s head flew back, and Phil couldn’t help dropping down and sucking — sucking harder than he probably should. Maybe tomorrow he’d care, but right now he certainly didn’t.

“Ph _iiw_ ,” Dan cried out, his hips stuttering. Phil groaned at the way his name sounded on Dan’s lips, nothing more than a deep moan, and felt his hips start to thrust harder into his fist. Phil couldn’t seem to help himself, but it didn’t matter, because Dan seemed to be enjoying it too. He arched his neck further into Phil’s mouth, and choked out, “Close.”

Dan seemed to lose control of his hands; they slipped down and grabbed Phil’s shoulders. His nails dug in, and the sharp pain only added to the white hot pleasure Phil felt.

With the hand he was bracing himself on, Phil shifted, tangling it in Dan’s hair and tugging sharply, stroking upwards on their cocks at the same time.

“Fuck,” Dan moaned. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck, fuck, fuck_.” His breath hitched, his face scrunched up, his body tensed under Phil’s. Phil could see it before it happened, he could see Dan _letting go_ , and then he did. Phil could feel streaks of warm cum shooting over his hand, and splattering against both of their chests.

The moans and whimpers that tumbled from Dan’s mouth were intoxicating, and so loud that Phil would have been worried about the neighbors if Dan didn’t have the floor to himself. The look of euphoria on Dan’s face, and the throbbing of his cock against Phil’s, was all Phil needed to topple over the edge himself.

The orgasm that had been pulling at his stomach since Dan had first kissed him — fuck, since Dan had first _smiled_ at him months ago — surged through him, wracking his body in quick, hot spurts. 

Phil’s breath mingled with Dan’s, and he lunged forward, locking their lips together. They were both too far gone to properly kiss, but just the feel of Dan’s lips underneath his own intensified the feeling of his orgasm.

“So good,” Phil whimpered. “So fucking good.” He could feel his cock pulsing in his hand, shooting what felt like endless streaks of cum against Dan’s chest, and it was _so good_. Phil’s entire body shook with the feeling.

Dan’s fingers dug deeper into Phil’s shoulders, just for a second, before he relaxed entirely, going completely boneless under Phil. Phil watched through half lidded eyes as Dan collapsed. As a final streak of cum dribbled out of Phil’s cock, he fell forward, unable to hold himself up any longer.

They laid together, trying to catch their breath. Phil didn’t even have the energy to roll off of Dan, so he just sunk down, hoping that he wasn’t crushing Dan. Their chests moved up and down in synchrony, far faster than they normally would. Phil wiggled his hand from between them, carelessly wiping their mixed cum on the bedspread, before tangling his still-sticky fingers in the sweat-soaked, curly locks of Dan’s hair.

“Jesus fucking christ, Phil,” Dan murmured, his eyes still closed and body still completely lax. “How are you _that good_ already?”

Chuckling quietly, Phil tucked his head into Dan’s neck, pressing a kiss into the hollow of his collarbone. “I guess that beat _good enough_ , then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COME SCREAM AT ME.
> 
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> like and reblog on tumblr 


	22. 22 (9150 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: as always, a lovely thanks to @auroraphilealis for pushing me to the best i can, for pulling another 3k out of me and this chapter, and for making the editing process fun. i love you boo <3
> 
> **important:** i know some of my fave readers of this fic are ace and not so into smut, so going forward, i’m going to try to remember to put skippable explicit smut between ~*~*~*~* breaks for them. sorry if this is annoying for anyone else!!!

Dan woke up to the gentle brushing of fingertips up and down his bare back, the quiet _thump thump, thump thump_ of a heart directly under his head, and the rise and fall of a stomach under his arm. Despite his sleepy brain, it didn’t take Dan more than a minute to remember who he was in bed with — who he was practically laying on top of. 

Phil.

After _months_ of dreaming, wanting, _lusting_ , Dan had finally gotten to be with Phil last night. And holy _shit_ , it was somehow even better than he’d imagined. Phil had been — and still was — sweet and caring, and months of friendship just seemed to heighten _everything._

Eager to prolong the warm cuddles as long as possible, Dan kept his eyes shut, and tried to keep his breathing as even as possible. 

It seemed to work. The room stayed silent, with the exception of Phil’s steady heartbeat, and Phil stayed still beneath Dan.

“I know you’re awake, Daniel,” Phil whispered, his hand not stopping its calming movement along Dan’s spine.

_Fuck_.

Disgruntled at being caught, Dan buried his face into Phil’s chest with a groan. “No ‘m not,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against Phil.

“Mmmm,” Phil hummed. He didn’t sound like he believed Dan. “Whatever you say, dear.”

“ _Shhhh_ ,” Dan hushed. He was struggling to decide if he wanted to will himself back to sleep, or stay awake so he could savor laying in Phil’s arms. 

His mind decided for him, though. Apparently, it was too happy about being _this close_ to Phil to shut up long enough for him to doze off again.

“How did y’know?” Dan murmured when he’d given up on more sleep.

“Know what?” Phil asked.

“That I was ‘wake.”

“Oh.” Phil’s spare hand, the one that wasn’t tracing lines on Dan’s back, nudged the fingers of the hand that Dan had looped around Phil’s torso. “Your grip on me tightened.”

“Damn,” Dan cursed, even as he squeezed Phil in a hug for a moment. “How long’ve y’been awake?”

“I think about half an hour.”

“You could’ve gotten up if y’wanted to,” Dan half-heartedly offered, even though he would have been extremely disappointed — and worried — if he’d woken up and Phil hadn’t been in bed with him. 

Phil pressed a kiss to the top of Dan’s head. “I didn’t want to.”

Dan felt his cheeks heat up, and let out a high, flustered whine. “Ph _iw_!” 

Phil giggled, his hand slipping around Dan’s waist to give him a firm hug. 

“How are you feeling this morning?” Phil sounded like he genuinely cared. Nearly a year of dating Isabella had made Dan forget what it was like to have a partner that was concerned about his well being.

“Amazing,” Dan sighed. He took inventory of his body, noticing how relaxed his muscles felt, and that there was a spot on his neck that felt more tender than usual. He was also rapidly growing aware of the fact that his stomach and chest, as well as Phil’s, were sticky with the remnants of dried cum that they’d only made half an effort to wipe away last night. “And gross,” Dan added with a groan.

Phil chuckled, causing his chest to vibrate under Dan’s ear. “Yeah, we didn’t do a good job of cleaning up, huh?”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Dan muttered in agreement. He very deliberately moved his hand further up Phil’s chest to avoid the worst of the remaining mess.

“Do you have plans today?” Phil asked. His fingers resumed their gentle stroking, this time along Dan’s side.

Dan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember what day it was, much less if he had any plans. It was hard to think about anything other than the fact that he was currently laying in bed with Phil, completely naked. 

“I’m seeing Louise t’night,” he said eventually. “And I _was_ planning t’go to the studio, but not ‘nymore.”

“Why not?”

“Tired. Lazy. Comfortable.” While all of those excuses were true, the main reason was that Dan felt entirely too fucked-out and happy after last night to _possibly_ concentrate on music.

Well, that, and he was hoping he could entice Phil into another round.

“In that case,” Phil said slyly. “How about showers, coffee, and then we get back in bed?”

Dan perked up at Phil’s suggestion, propping himself on one elbow so he could “Really?”

“Yeah.” Phil grinned softly at Dan. “I don’t wanna let go of you yet. Not if I don’t have to.”

Dan rose further up, resting his forearm on Phil’s chest and pushing himself so that his face was even with Phil’s. “You’re amazing,” he whispered before closing the gap between them and pressing his lips to Phil’s. Their lips moved languidly together, and Phil’s tongue darted out to lick Dan’s bottom lip. On instinct, Dan’s mouth parted, letting Phil slip inside.

The rushed, desperate urgency from last night was gone, but their touches were no less passionate, no less hot. Their tongues moved together, neither taking control, as they slowly explored each other’s mouths.

Phil pulled Dan away slightly, startling him out of the kiss. 

“Wh _at_?” Dan whined, disgruntled at the interruption.

Phil pulled back, his lips now too far away for Dan to comfortably kiss. “As nice as this is, darling, we’re a mess. If you have spare sheets, I’ll make the bed while you shower.”

As much as Dan appreciated Phil’s offer to be helpful, he had no desire to let Phil out of his sight for a second.

Dan shifted so that he was hovering more directly over Phil and pressed another, faster kiss to Phil’s lips. This time, Dan let his hands trail down Phil’s torso, going all the way to his belly button and doing his best to avoid the remaining mess.

“Or,” Dan murmured against Phil’s lips as he suggestively ran his fingers through the hair that ran downwards, not quite letting his hand drift as far as Phil’s cock. “We could deal with the sheets later and shower together.”

Phil’s head tipped back, his eyes fluttered shut, and a quiet groan tumbled out of his mouth. “I like the way you think, Howell.” Phil’s voice, which had already been scruffy from sleep, dropped an octave and — _fuck_ , that was hot. There was no way Dan was going to be able to get out of bed without sporting a semi. 

But the least he could do was make sure Phil was just as riled up as he was.

Fingers trailing farther south to tease at Phil’s cock, Dan pressed a final kiss to Phil’s lips before diverting downward. Last night, Dan had been too drunk on the feeling of _finally_ being with Phil that he hadn’t had the sense to explore Phil’s body — something he very much wanted to do now. Somehow, during just one round of sex, Phil had found _so many_ of Dan’s turn-ons, and Dan was eager to do the same for Phil now.

Curious to see Phil’s reaction, Dan pressed wet, sloppy kisses down Phil’s jaw, looping around to the underside of his chin. All Dan got for his efforts, though, was a small _hmmm_ , which wasn’t quite the enthusiastic reaction that he was looking for. Phil hadn’t been particularly loud last night, and Dan was determined to draw some noises out of him this morning.

Dan worked his way back up Phil’s neck, experimenting as he went. Dan kissed and sucked, and even _nipped_ at Phil’s throat, but none of it got a bigger reaction from Phil. Shifting tactics, Dan worked his way to Phil’s ear.

Curiously, Dan darted his tongue out and _licked_. The breath that Phil was drawing in caught, his body froze. It was either a great sign or a terrible one, but Dan was fairly confident that Phil liked it.

Without warning, Dan drew Phil’s earlobe into his mouth, and bit lightly. This time, Dan was rewarded with a soft whimper from Phil, and a tight squeeze of his ass. That was a definite improvement.

_Good_.

Dan wanted _more_ though. Slipping out of Phil’s hold, Dan pushed himself further up, and straddled Phil’s waist, his arse lightly resting on Phil’s cock. Just because he could, Dan rocked his hips down, grinding Phil into him. 

Phil’s hands flew to Dan’s hips and gripped tight, squeezing around the bone. The pressure from Phil’s long, nimble fingers was electrifying, and Dan wasn’t sure he’d ever get tired of the way he felt when Phil touched him.

Choosing to ignore the way Phil’s hands tried to pull Dan’s hips down again — at least for now — Dan leaned forward and resumed his exploration of Phil’s body instead. 

Phil’s chest was long and pale and — _ugh_. Covered in dried cum still. Maybe Dan would have to wait until they were actually in the shower after all. Nevertheless, his mouth skimmed over Phil’s clavicles half heartedly for a moment, genuinely disappointed that he couldn’t have more of Phil _right now_.

Not quite willing to give this up without some kind of teasing, Dan gave into the pressure of Phil’s hands on his hips, and rubbed his arse against Phil’s cock again. Dan’s lips found Phil’s and kissed him hungrily. Their lips found a fast and biting rhythm, and their hips moved together with quick and desperate thrusts.

Dan kissed Phil _hard_ , licking his tongue into the caverns of Phil’s mouth in a way that he hadn’t last night. Phil thrusted up and up, his cock nestled between the bare cheeks of Dan’s arse. It was a welcomed sensation that Dan hadn’t felt in a _long_ time, and he rocked his hips down faster and faster, seeking more of it. 

Abruptly, Phil tore his lips from Dan’s and his hips slowed — but didn’t stop — their movements. “Okay, okay, okay,” he said hurriedly against Dan’s cheek, sounding completely winded. “Let’s go before we get carried away.”

Dan hummed quiet agreement, but continued kissing Phil all the same. Dan pointedly ground down, causing Phil’s cock to slide between his cheeks, Dan’s own dick rubbing against Phil’s stomach. Dan’s heavy breathing twisted into a deep, breathy moan. 

“Can’t imagine how that would happen,” Dan murmured against Phil’s lips. Phil kissed back hungrily, mumbling something that sounded like _screw it_. 

Shit, _fuck_. 

Dan wanted to shower, though. He wanted to shower with Phil, and he wanted to do it _now_ — especially since now he wouldn’t have to be the only one to crawl out of bed with a raging erection. 

This time, Dan was the one who unexpectedly pulled away from the kiss, leaving Phil gasping for breath and desperate for more. 

Satisfied with the mess he’d made of Phil, Dan unabashedly threw back the covers and climbed out of bed, making his way to the en suite bathroom. “Okay, _now_ we can go,” he said. As he pushed the door open, though, Dan realized that Phil wasn’t following behind him.

Turning around, Dan saw that Phil was still on the bed, staring after Dan. Now that the blankets were gone, Dan had a _stellar_ view of Phil — _all_ of Phil. 

Although Dan would never admit it, he’d gone on a few deep tumblr dives in the AmazingPhil tag, and he’d noticed that one of the popular fan theories said that Phil was _packing_. When Dan had first seen the consensus, he hadn’t been able to help hoping it was true.

And now that Dan had seen, had _touched_ , Phil while he was naked and hard, Dan could confirm those headcannons with absolute certainty. 

Tongue darting out to lick his lips, Dan trailed his eyes up from Phil’s thick cock to his face. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Phil said, shaking his head as he if were pulling himself out of his thoughts. “Just enjoying the view.” His eyes raked up and down Dan’s naked body again, not bothering to hide the way he lingered on Dan’s cock for a beat longer than the rest of his body. The blatant lust in Phil’s eyes calmed any self-conscious fears that Dan would have had, and he just felt _sexy_ under Phil’s gaze. 

“You can enjoy it a lot better if you come shower with me, nerd,” Dan teased.

“Touché.” Phil climbed out of bed and followed after Dan.

In the bathroom, Dan fiddled with the shower tap, turning the water on as hot as he dared without risking burning them. While he waited for the water to warm up, he moved to the mirror to inspect just how bad the damage from last night really was. 

As he suspected, there was an angry red, _beautiful_ hickey blossoming on his neck, just below his jaw. 

“Guess I’m definitely telling Louise tonight, then,” Dan chuckled, touching the mark and watching it darken in the mirror.

Phil stepped behind him, slipping his arms around Dan’s waist and pulling him close against his chest. Phil’s head came to rest on Dan’s shoulder, and his eyes met Dan’s in the mirror.

“Sorry about that,” Phil apologized, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. 

“I’m not,” Dan smiled, dropping his hand and lacing his fingers over Phil’s. “It felt really fucking good.”

“Oh did it?” Phil teased, a mischievous glint in his eye. He winked at Dan — well, more like aggressively blinked — and turned his head so that he could kiss Dan’s neck. “I couldn’t tell,” he murmured against Dan’s skin, the vibrations of his low voice shooting down Dan’s spine and straight to his cock. 

Proving both of their points, Dan’s head tipped back to land on Phil’s shoulder, and a low whine escaped his mouth.

“I don’t —” he gasped, futilely trying to maintain an ounce of his composure. “—usually like that.” 

Phil’s lips stilled against Dan’s neck, frozen in their pilgrimage to tint the whole expanse red. “What do you mean?”

“My neck,” Dan gasped, still trying to regain control of his breath. “I don’t usually let people touch it.”

Much to Dan’s disappointment, Phil’s lips drew back, and he straightened up. “Sorry.” This time Phil did sound sincere. “You should have told me to stop.”

“No!” Dan nearly shouted. His eyes sprung open, and sought Phil’s in the mirror. “I like it with you.” 

Showing Phil just _how_ much he liked it, Dan wrapped a hand in Phil’s hair and guided his head back to his neck. Phil pressed a few tentative kisses along Dan’s collarbone, inching slightly upward to what only barely counted as Dan’s neck.

“I swear,” Dan promised. “It feels really fucking good, Phil.” Dan’s assurance was swallowed by a low mewl as Phil nipped lightly at his skin. “Fuck, seriously,” he added as a breathily afterthought. 

“Why haven’t you liked it with other people, then?” Phil sounded confused, and maybe still a little worried.

Dan shrugged, inadvertently jostling Phil’s head. “It —” Dan cut himself off, not sure the truth would be _too much_ right now.

Phil glanced forward, meeting Dan’s eyes in the mirror before looking back down at Dan’s neck and pressing soft, encouraging kisses into his shoulder. “It what?” Phil prompted gently.

“It always felt too intimate,” Dan said as casually as he could while Phil’s lips were still _right there_. 

Seemingly encouraged by Dan’s words, Phil moved higher on Dan’s neck and sucked lightly at his pulse point. “But it’s not with me?” 

Dan had half a mind to think that Phil was both curious and smug. 

“No, it’s great with you,” Dan assured him. His voice came out hushed, almost like he was afraid to break the delicate mood that had been created. The _intimate_ mood — fuck that was new. And good.

In response, Phil properly latched onto Dan’s neck and began sucking a new hickey into the patterns. “Good,” Phil muttered into Dan’s neck, the vibrations of his voice sending tingles through Dan’s neck and all the way down to his stomach. “I’m glad.”

“Me t-too,” Dan stuttered, a smile pulling at his lips despite how fucking _turned on_ he was by everything. Phil seemed to be taking immense satisfaction in the fact that he could pleasure Dan in a way other’s couldn’t, and that knowledge was affecting both Dan’s mind and his cock. 

In the mirror, Dan let his eyes drift from where they’d been trained on Phil’s mouth on his neck upwards, taking in the rest of his reflection. His chest had a red flush to it, and his pupils were blown wide, and —

_What the fuck_.

Ripping away from Phil, Dan abruptly leaned in closer to the mirror to get a better look at himself. 

“Is that _cum_ in my _hair_?” Dan squeaked. His hand flew up to touch the stiff, almost crusty, pearly mess in the curls on the side of his head.

Over his shoulder, Phil looked chagrined; his hands flew up to hide his rapidly reddening cheeks and he let out a high pitch squeal.

“Philip Michael Lester!” Dan squawked, abruptly turning around to properly face Phil. Dan grabbed Phil’s wrists and pulled them down so that he could see Phil’s face. “How the _fuck_ did you get cum in my _hair_ last night? You weren’t anywhere near there!”

“Er,” Phil’s gaze was focused behind Dan, seemingly on the toiletries that were lined up neatly on the counter. “I suppose there might have still been, um, some, on my hand last night.”

Dan’s brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to remember what _exactly_ had happened last night. He remembered having an _amazing_ orgasm, and Phil coming at almost the exact same time. He remembered Phil stroking both of their cocks and working them through their orgasms. And he remembered Phil’s hands tangling in his hair when they were both spent.

_Oh_. 

Dan’s cheeks flushed red as he processed what must have happened last night — and how he must have looked curled up on Phil’s chest this morning. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Dan said with an uncontrollably wide grin. As much of a pain as cum was to get out of hair, Dan couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed about it. It was objectively _filthy_ , but not necessarily in a bad way. It complimented the hickey well, anyway.

Besides, it’d been a long time since he’d been covered in cum other than his own.

“Come on,” Phil pulled him by the hand towards the shower. “It’s my fault it’s there. I’ll get it out for you.”

The water was warm, and the shower was already full of steam by the time they stepped in. Phil didn’t waste any time in pushing Dan under the spray and searching for the shampoo, apparently eager to fix the mess of Dan’s hair. 

Phil fumbled with the bottle and squirted a glob into his hands. Between his hands, Phil worked the shampoo into a bubbly lather before spreading it into Dan’s hair. Long fingers drew careful circles into Dan’s head, massaging his scalp and tangling in his hair.

Other than his hairdresser, and maybe his mother when he was about five, Dan had _never_ had someone else wash his hair and _jesus_ , he’d had no idea what he was missing. 

“ _Mmm_ ,” Dan sighed contentedly, and leaned in slightly to the pressure of Phil’s hands. It was too heavenly to resist. 

A quiet, amused chuckle bubbled out of Phil. “Do you like that?” he asked knowingly.

“It’s amazing,” Dan murmured. He let his eyes fall shut, and looped his arms loosely around Phil’s waist, leaving enough space between them that Phil could still comfortably reach his head.

Phil’s hands paid special attention to the mess on the side of Dan’s head and took care to thoroughly wash his hair. Slowly, Phil’s hands continued their soothing ministrations, shifting to the back, then the top, and then the sides again, over and over. Time seemed to fade away as Dan melted into the soft intimacy of Phil taking care of him, and the slight tugging at his hair.

“Come here,” Phil whispered after a while, gently guiding Dan’s head back under the stream of water. With great care, Phil washed the shampoo out of Dan’s hair, and made sure none of the bubbles dripped down onto his face. 

It wasn’t until the pressure of Phil’s hands disappeared that Dan opened his eyes again, prepared to complain about the sudden lack of attention. In front of him, though, Phil was pouring an obscene amount of body wash onto Dan’s loofah. 

Phil set the bottle back down on the shelf and pulled Dan forward, out of the direct stream of the water. “Here,” Phil said softly. “Let’s get your chest clean, too.”

“That’s kind of my fault,” Dan half-heartedly chuckled. He had no real desire to derail Phil’s intentions to wash him; Dan’s goals for the shower could wait.

“I’d say it’s at least half mine.” Phil smirked. 

Dan wasn’t sure what Phil meant was half _his_ — the fault or the mess — but Dan was happy they shared it either way. 

Phil reached out, and tenderly rubbed the loofah in circles on Dan’s chest. Phil started high, the loofah dipping into the divots of Dan’s collarbones, and slowly worked his way down towards Dan’s belly button.

It felt heavenly, being taken care of like this. Never once had Dan been in a relationship where someone had paid this much careful attention to him, especially _this_ early on. He’d always been the person to take care of his partner, the person pulling his partner in for cuddles and affection, the person initiating intimate contact that wasn’t _sex_.

Dan should have known that Phil would be different.

Being pampered like this hadn’t been what Dan had in mind for this shower — and he certainly intended to get around to his plans eventually — but it was too good to not give into. At some point, Phil’s other hand had joined the loofah, and was tracing soapy circles on Dan’s lower back. Dan was torn between wanting to press backwards into Phil’s hand, and lean further forward into Phil.

“I think that’s as clean as your stomach can get,” Phil said, withdrawing the loofah from Dan.

“Thank you.” Dan leaned forward and kissed Phil, slowly shifting the mood from soft back to heated.

“My turn,” Dan murmured with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow. 

With a wink, Dan stole the loofah from Phil and brought it up to his chest, making much faster work of cleaning the dried mess off of Phil. Dan’s movements lacked the gentle caress of Phil’s, and were pushing _down down down_ much faster.

Unlike Phil, Dan had his sights on something else.

Back in bed, Dan had been eager to explore Phil’s chest, to kiss and lick and nibble at as much of Phil as he could, but that wasn’t a particularly sexy thing to do when they were both covered in dried cum. So right now, Dan just needed Phil _clean_ ; there would be more time for intimate bathing in the future.

When the last traces of their activities from last night were washed from Phil’s torso, Dan carelessly dropped the loofah onto the floor and spun Phil around, forcing them to switch places. Dan guided Phil backwards so that he was directly under the shower head, and helped him rinse off all the the bubbles.

“That’s better,” Phil said as he reached for the handle to turn the faucet off.

With faster instincts than Dan realized he had, he seized Phil’s hand in mid-air. “What do you think you’re doing?” Dan asked, an eyebrow cocked at Phil.

Phil’s brows furrowed and his eyes flickered down to both of their stiff erections. “Getting out?” 

“Oh no you don’t, Lester,” Dan said impishly. Before Phil could respond, Dan pushed him backwards, sending him softly crashing into the tiled wall of the shower. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“But I thought you wanted to —” Phil’s eyes followed Dan’s hands as they reached for Phil’s waist and sliddown “ _Oh_ ,” he gasped. “In _here_.”

“Yeah,” Dan teased with a playful, mocking edge to his voice. “ _In here_.”

“You’re really something, Dan,” Phil mumbled, awestruck.

Dan smirked at Phil, taking that as enough permission to lean forward and _finally_ begin exploring Phil’s body. His shoulders were broader than Dan’s, and _definitely_ broader than Isabella’s, which meant that there was more skin that Dan could ravish. He worked his way across them, dropping kisses every few centimeters. 

~*~*~*~*

Determined to find the spots that drove Phil _crazy_ , Dan ducked lower. He traced his lips along Phil's collarbone, and dipped down, suddenly taking Phil’s nipple into his mouth. Beneath his lips, Dan could feel Phil’s chest huff with a sudden intake of breath. Spurred on by Phil’s reaction, Dan grazed his teeth against Phil’s chest and darted his tongue out to circle the pert nub. 

“Shit — _Dan_ ,” Phil whimpered, so quietly that Dan almost didn’t hear him above the rushing of the water. The broken sound of Phil’s voice went straight to Dan’s cock, and he could feel a bead of precum leak out. 

Taking his time, Dan kissed his way across Phil’s chest and gave the same attention to Phil’s other nipple, lavishing it with kitten licks and gentle bites. Once Dan was satisfied with the way Phil’s nipples had turned from pink to dark red, and were standing more erectly, he let his mouth slide down again. He kissed his way to Phil’s stomach, taking a moment to dip his tongue into Phil’s belly button. Phil’s head tipped back, smacking into the wall with a loud _thunk_ , but Phil didn’t seem to notice. 

Glancing up, Dan saw that Phil’s eyes were clamped shut, and his hands were spread flat against the wall near his hips, his fingers white from the pressure.

Dan slowly sunk down to his knees. Phil’s cock was _right there_ , swollen and red, thick and long. 

“Look at me,” Dan demanded as he nipped at Phil’s stomach to get his attention. Phil’s head snapped forward and his eyes flew open, his gaze frantically scanning over Dan. Dan was sure it was quite the sight; him on his knees, his head only centimeters away from Phil’s cock. 

Dan’s tongue darted out to lick his lips as he hungrily eyed it. “Can I?” Dan asked, his mouth already close enough to blow air over Phil’s tip when he spoke.

“ _Please_ ,” Phil begged quietly. His lips barely moved enough for the breath of a word to escape. 

Dan didn’t respond, instead answering Phil’s plea by wrapping his lips around the head of Phil’s cock, one hand instinctively coming up to steady Phil’s base. A shuddering sigh shook out of Phil as Dan’s his tongue dipped into his slit and lapping up the leaking bead of precome. 

When Dan had first started sleeping with men, he’d worried that the taste would bother him. He had been pleasantly surprised to find that it was fine, that some men even tasted sort of alright. But _holy fuck_ , just like everything else about Phil, his taste was amazing. 

Determined to make this _good_ , to make it last, Dan teased at Phil’s tip, circling the head with his tongue and lapping at Phil’s slit. His hand just barely stroked Phil’s base, his thumb dipping down to brush against Phil’s balls.

“Da _aan_ ,” Phil groaned quietly, begging. Pleading.

“ _Mmmm_ ,” Dan moaned, his mouth vibrating around Phil. Dan sunk forward, swallowing more and more of Phil’s cock at a tantalizingly slow pace, his tongue dragging along the sensitive vein.

By the time Dan’s lips finally, _finally_ grazed Phil’s base, Phil was a panting mess. For so long, Dan had been dreaming of seeing Phil in this position — wanton and above him. Dan couldn't help opening his eyes to stare up while he had Phil’s entire cock in his mouth, the tip pushing passed his gag reflex. 

Towering above Dan, Phil looked an absolute _mess._ His head was still tipped back against the tiled wall, frozen where it had dropped again. His eyes were half-lidded, now. Through the small slits of Phil’s eyes, Dan could see that his gaze was fixed straight down, focused on _Dan_. 

Phil’s cock was thick enough that Dan’s mouth was stretched wide, his lips clamping tightly around the shaft as he bobbed up and down at an agonizingly slow pace. Dan’s mouth felt full, useful in a way it never did when he was with a woman. The heavy weight of cock on his tongue, and the faint pulsing of the head near the back of his throat, was intoxicating — and satisfied Dan’s minor oral fixation.

Hopefully, it was a filthy, hot picture for Phil.

It may have been a while since Dan had done _this_ , but _god_ was he happy to be doing it again, and _god_ was he happy that it was _Phil’s_ cock he was sucking. The shocking newness of having Phil’s dick in his mouth started to fade, and Dan gave the blowjob his _all_ , determined to give Phil the best he’d ever had. 

Holding the base of Phil’s cock in his hand, Dan pulled all the way off, watching it twitch in anticipation as it hung erect between Phil’s legs. Dan’s breath blew across Phil’s tip once, twice, before he sunk down again, faster this time, and took him all the way to the base in one fast swallow. 

A quiet, low groan tumbled from Phil’s mouth as he hit the back of Dan’s throat. Dan was out of practice, but he quickly relaxed his muscles and opened a little wider, guiding Phil in as far as possible. He fucking _loved_ deepthroating. 

“God, you’re good a’this,” Phil moaned quietly. 

Jesus _fuck_. Dan’s cock twitched in direct response to Phil’s compliment. He’d been hard before, but up until now he’d been content to ignore his own erection. But now, the need to give into his own pleasure was almost overwhelming and the pulsing _need_ in his own dick was distracting. 

“Phiw,” Dan moaned around Phil’s cock, his free hand seeking out his own cock and giving a few rough tugs. He didn’t want much — certainly not enough to finish himself, or even _really_ get himself going — but he needed _something_ to release the edge. 

The loose pressure of his own hand on his cock was maddening, and Dan was tempted to give in, to turn his focus towards stroking himself. But that’s not why Dan had coaxed Phil into his shower — and besides, Dan had gotten off with his left hand a few too many times in the last couple of months. So Dan let go of himself, and turned the entirety of his attention back to _Phil_.

Without giving any warning, Dan’s hands flew up to brace Phil’s upper thighs, and he sunk down at a new, faster pace. Beneath his hands, Phil’s hips were canting forward, fucking lightly into Dan’s mouth. Siliently urging him to continue, Dan released some of the pressure of his hands, letting Phil thrust forward with more force. 

Dan took care to drag his tongue along the underside of Phil’s shaft and lap at his slit on every bob, glancing up at Phil through his eyelashes the entire time. 

So okay, maybe Phil just wasn’t that loud in bed, Dan realized, because Phil was _definitely_ enjoying himself. 

His breath was coming in short huffs and sharp gasps, his hips were pushing against Dan’s hold, itching to thrust harder into Dan’s mouth. Rosy pink bruises were blossoming on Phil’s chest and stomach, marking Dan’s path from Phil’s chin to his groin. 

Phil was wrecked and, frankly, so was Dan. 

It might have been greedy, but Dan wanted _just a bit_ more, and from the way Phil was writhing against the wall, Phil was desperate for more, too. 

Dan’s hands slid from their purchase on Phil’s thighs and found Phil’s wrists. Forcefully, he yanked Phil’s hands from the wall and brought them to his head, encouraging Phil’s fingers to tangle in his wet curls. 

Dan broke his ministrations just long enough to pull off Phil’s cock and murmur a hoarse, “ _pull_.” 

Phil didn’t need to be told twice. His hands seized Dan’s hair and _tugged_ , using the leverage to move Dan at the pace Phil needed. It was fast — much faster than Dan had been going before, and he was completely incapable of incorporating any proper _skill_ at this point. But even without the licking, sucking, and stroking, Phil was still falling apart from Dan’s tongue alone. 

Each _yank_ on Dan’s hair, and every quiet moan from Phil’s lips, dragged Dan unrelentingly closer and closer to his own release. 

“Fuck, Dan, you’re so—” Phil’s words dwindled into a breathy groan when Dan shifted his hands, lightly massaging Phil’s balls in one hand and pressing firmly against Phil’s perineum with the other. 

“Sh- _shit!_ ” Phil’s finger’s sharply pulled at Dan’s hair, forcing him all the way off his cock. “C-close,” Phil panted, one hand reaching for his own dick. Dan knocked Phil’s hand out of the way, guiding it back to his tangled hair.

“Good,” Dan panted, hoping to sound cheeky, but instead his voice just sounded _wrecked_ and _god_ was that hot. “Me too,” he added, abandoning all flirty pretenses and sinking forward onto Phil’s cock again. 

A soft grunt escaped Phil’s throat, pulling a louder, longer moan from Dan. 

“Y’ don't have to s-swallow,” Phil stuttered, his eyes never leaving Dan’s lips on his cock. 

Dan’s only response was to dig his fingers further into Phil’s perineum, finally finding his prostate and eliciting a hushed whine from him. 

Beneath Dan’s massaging fingers, he could feel Phil’s balls drawn up, could feel Phil tense and _freeze_. 

And then he could feel Phil _let go_. 

Dan felt Phil’s cock pulse in his mouth, felt the white hot liquid hit the back of his throat, warm and salty and so fucking _amazing_. 

“You feel so good, your mouth is so good, god, _Dan_ ,” Phil babbled, on the verge of incoherent, as his cock continued to pump cum into Dan’s mouth. Moaning around Phil’s cock, Dan swallowed every last drop of it, his hands continuing their ministrations and mouth hungrily sucking around Phil’s dick.

The praise, the hair pulling, the twitching of Phil’s cock in his mouth — it all had Dan teetering so close to his own orgasm that he dropped one hand from Phil and grasped his own cock, pulling roughly and desperately. 

It was only a matter of strokes before Dan was pushed over the edge, too. He tensed, his attention split between the pleasure of his own cock and the weight of Phil’s dick in his mouth. Dan’s body shook as his orgasm ran through him, and he came in messy spurts on the shower floor. 

His orgasm wracked his body in intense, heavenly waves. Even though Dan had technically finished himself, it was so much better than anytime he’d ever masturbated. The feeling of Phil’s cock pulsing in his mouth, and the desperate pulling of Phil’s hands in his hair made everything _hotter._

When Phil’s cock started to soften, and Dan’s cock began to ache with overstimulation, Dan pulled off Phil, immediately sinking all the way down to the floor. His forehead helplessly crashed into Phil’s thigh, his hands coming up to cling at Phil’s shin like he was a life raft. Dan was too drained to hold himself up, and too desperate to be close to Phil to lean against the wall instead. The water was beginning to run lukewarm, but right now, Dan couldn’t be arsed enough to care. 

~*~*~*~*

“Come up here,” Phil beckoned, his hand weakly tugging at Dan’s curls. He was still out of breath, and he sounded utterly blissed out. Dan had no idea how he was even talking. 

“Can’t,” Dan mumbled between shaky breaths into Phil’s knee. 

Phil’s hands shifted on Dan’s head, this time gently running through the soaked, tangled locks. “Wanna help y’finish,” Phil slurred. 

_Oh._

“Um,” Dan mumbled. Bashfully, he buried his face even more entirely into Phil’s thigh, arms fully wrapping around his leg and squeezing to slide himself closer. “No need,” Dan muttered. 

Beneath his forehead, Dan felt Phil’s body shift sharply, and the hand in his hair tightened its hold for a split second before relaxing. 

Gently, Phil pulled on Dan’s hair and coaxed Dan’s face away from his thigh. “Look up, baby,” Phil commanded softly. 

Dan’s gaze trailed upwards, finally meeting Phil’s. Above him, Phil was staring down with a soft, disbelieving smile. His eyes flicked from Dan’s face and scanned down his body, no doubt able to see his softening cock and the white lines that still streaked the tile between them. 

“You’re too perfect, Howell,” Phil whispered, disbelief and awe etched in his voice. He leaned down and tipped Dan’s head further back, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“Did you really come just from sucking me off?” Phil asked quietly, amazed and shocked. 

A warm blush worked its way from Dan’s chest to his ears, and he hoped the heat of the shower was enough to disguise it. 

“Shuddup,” Dan mumbled bashfully, hiding his face in Phil’s legs. A light, soft touch ruffled his head as Phil’s fingers softly raked through Dan’s hair. 

“That’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.” Phil’s words came out in a low whine, and Dan was a least a _little_ satisfied about that, and he already wanted to spend the rest of eternity topping all of Phil’s previous experiences.

And if Phil really was that turned on by Dan coming _just_ from blowing Phil, god was this going to go well. Because Dan wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to suck Phil’s cock and _not_ come, and _god_ did he want to do that again and again.

Eventually, Phil straightened up, the sudden movement sending Dan back into the water’s path, and jarring him out of his thoughts. The look on his face suggested he had regained control of himself and was read to get out. “I’ll get coffee started for us, come out when you’re ready. Take your time.” 

Exhausted and euphoric, Dan unraveled himself from Phil and shifted his weight to the wall beside him. He flashed what he hoped was a reassuring and grateful smile up at Phil as he stepped out of the shower. 

The shower door shut behind Phil with a muted _click_ , and Dan watched his silhouette through the glass. Phil wrapped not one, not two, but _three_ of Dan’s big, fluffy towels around himself — leaving just one for Dan. Not that Dan particularly cared. He’d happily trot out to the kitchen completely naked knowing it was Phil who was going to be there. 

Dan allowed himself a few more minutes to regain his breath and finally process everything that had happened now that he was alone. Even though he had been building towards this _thing_ with Phil for months, a part of him had never expected to actually get here — and he certainly hadn’t expected it to be this good, this _safe_ , this _happy_ when they finally _went for it_. 

Barely twelve hours ago, Dan had been fighting with Isabella in B ‘n G, and somehow that had led to that sweet, smiley first kiss he’d shared with Phil last night. How? How the fuck had a raging fight with his ex-girlfriend turned into getting together with the boy of his dreams?

Literally anyone but Phil would probably have run screaming. 

_Jesus,_ how the fuck had he gotten so lucky. 

When he felt confident that he could walk again, Dan washed his cum down the drain, and pushed himself up off the ground. His knees protested, angry at kneeling on the hard wet tile for so long. Dan couldn’t bring himself to be upset by it though; he’d enjoyed every moment of sucking Phil off, and he’d eagerly do it again and again. 

After turning off the water, Dan finally stepped out of the shower and dried himself off with the remaining towell, eager to get back to Phil’s side. On his way to the kitchen, he stopped only briefly in his bedroom, pulling on a tight, black pair of boxer briefs and nothing else. Hopefully whatever Phil had in mind for today wouldn’t require more clothing, because Dan’s ideal plans included burrowing in Phil’s arms and not leaving bed until he had to get ready for Louise’s. 

In the kitchen, Dan found Phil in a similar state of dress — the _exact_ same actually. It appeared that Phil had helped himself to a pair of Dan’s pants and _fuck_ , if Dan hadn’t _just_ come, or if he was five years younger, he’d push Phil against the counter and blow him again. 

As it was, it was probably a good thing Dan wasn’t ready to push Phil up another wall, because every _single_ one of the cabinets were opened wide and he’d probably end up with a concussion. Phil’s head had disappeared into the one to the right of the sink, his tight arse sticking out as he leaned forward. 

“Can I help you with something, Philip?” Dan quipped. He slid behind Phil and wrapped his arms around Phil’s waist. 

Phil jumped, knocking his head into the shelf of the cabinet. Dan muffled a laugh behind his hand, too endeared by the soft _fiddlesticks_ that Phil muttered to openly make fun of him. 

“Mugs?” Phil asked, spinning around to face Dan. “I can only find this one.” 

Dan’s eyes followed Phil’s gesture to the counter, although he didn’t need to. He knew the only mug that Phil could be pointing to was the polka dotted one his had sister painted. 

“Right,” Dan said flatly, not answering Phil’s question at all. 

“Are they somewhere else, or…?” Phil asked when Dan didn’t elaborate. 

“No,” Dan averted his gaze, landing instead on the one other mug he owned. It was the pink one from his grandmother; he’d set it in the breakfast bar and shoved some fake flowers in it for decoration. That was all it could hold now. The glue that held the sentimental chunks together wouldn’t be able to withstand large amounts of liquid. 

Dan swallowed and looked back to Phil. “There’s kind of just that one,” he admitted, embarrassment taking over his voice and his face. 

Phil’s brows furrowed, confusion etched on his face. “I know you live alone, but, um, why?” 

Releasing Phil, Dan stepped back and dragged his hands roughly down his face. “It’s not a cheerful story,” he warned, dropping his hands back to his sides. 

The confusion on Phil’s face twisted into concern. “What happened?” 

“Isabella,” Dan said simply. When Phil didn’t say anything, Dan elaborated. “She showed up one day, pissed as all hell, and basically destroyed my kitchen, chucking all of my mugs onto the floor in the process.” 

Dan nodded towards the mug Phil has sat on the counter. “That’s the only one that survived. It was in the other room, thank god.” Dan’s gaze shifted to the breakfast bar. “And that one, sort of.” His eyes slid over the obvious lines where the glue was holding it together. “But only because I picked up the pieces and made Louise fix it.”

Dan finally looked back at Phil and found a mixture of horror and sympathy on his face. “That’s horrible,” he whispered. His hands wrapped around Dan’s waists and pulled him into a tight embrace. Dan let himself melt into it, his head coming to rest on Phil’s shoulder and his arms looping around Phil’s hips. 

“I warned you,” Dan mumbled dejectedly.

Phil was quiet for a moment, no doubt taking in the explanation. Dan expected Phil to ask any number of questions about the fight — what it was about, did she do things like that often, why didn’t Dan just dump her then — but instead, Phil asked, “What’s special about the mug you made Louise fix?” 

Dan breathed a sigh of relief; he didn’t want to get into the full story. It was long over, and had been the most major tipping point in his relationship with Isabella— and Dan had no desire to give her the power to taint this perfect morning he was sharing with Phil. 

“My grandma gave it to me right after I told her I was bi,” Dan murmured into Phil’s neck. “Kind of a _I support you_ and _fuck heteronormativity_ thing.”

Phil’s arms tightened around Dan, and he dropped a light kiss to Dan’s bare shoulder. “Your grandma sounds great.” 

“She is,” Dan agreed. “She was the first person I ever came out to. I was like fourteen, and she was immediately just so accepting, and it was a big part of why I accepted myself and grew confident in my sexuality.” 

Dan straightened up but didn’t move back from Phil, his gaze shifting to the mug. “I just couldn’t let it go. Even though it can’t really hold coffee anymore.”

Phil was quiet for a moment before leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to Dan’s lips. 

“We can bring the coffee pot into the bedroom and share the one mug. It’ll be romantic.”

Dan chuckled wetly, belatedly realizing that tears were stinging at his eyes. “Romantic,” he smiled as he swallowed his tears, determined to not let them spill and ruin the morning. “Right.” 

Just as Phil had suggested, they carried the coffee pot and single mug back into the bedroom, Dan grabbing a packet of biscuits on the way so that they had some sustenance. He was disappointed, however, when they got back to the room, only to realize that the sheets were still an absolute wreck.

“I guess we have to make up the bed, huh?” Phil sounded just as reluctant to do it as Dan did.

“We could. Or we could just strip it, and I could grab the duvet from the spare room and we could call it good enough.”

Phil sat their rations down on the bedside table, and started pulling the blankets off the bed. “Sounds great to me. Where’s your washer?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to start them.” 

“I really don’t mind. They’ll stain if we leave them too long.” Phil bundled the sheets in his arms. “Go grab the stuff. I got this.” 

“Thanks,” Dan smiled, leading Phil out of the bedroom. “It’s in a closet in the main bathroom, through the foyer.” 

Dan messily yanked the duvet off the spare bed, making a mental note to ask the maid to send it for dry cleaning before Darcy or his family spent the night again. Something about him and Phil being practically beneath it (and maybe _entirely_ , who knows how the day would go), made him slightly uncomfortable to put it back on the guest bed later. 

On his way back to his room, Dan swiped his computer from the lounge, just in case they wanted to watch anything. Unsurprisingly, he beat Phil back to the bedroom. Dan took the opportunity to light a candle — the stupidly expensive special occasions one that Louise had bought him — and crack the curtains so that they could pretend they were _sort of_ partaking in the day. 

Phil trailed back into the room, carrying two glasses of water with him. Dan flashed Phil a small, grateful smile and climbed into bed. The duvet was flipped down next to Dan, a clear invitation.

After setting the drinks on Dan’s nightstand, Phil followed. He settled on his back, and Dan immediately curled up into his side again. 

“Coffee, please,” Dan mumbled into Phil’s now clean chest.

Phil passed Dan their shared mug. “I’m impressed you managed to go this long without caffeine,” he chuckled, his laughter shaking Dan’s head and making it difficult to not spill.

“Apparently, other things are capable of waking me up just as well.” Dan flashed Phil an impish smile, and was pleased when Phil’s cheeks tinted dark red.

“I don’t think _cum_ has caffeine in it, Dan,” Phil teased back, smirking.

A shocked gasp flew out of Dan’s mouth, despite his laughing grin. He hadn’t expected Phil to push his joke even further — and especially didn’t expect him to say _that_.

“ _AmazingPhil,_ who knew you were so filthy!” Dan took another long gulp from the mug and shook his head in mock-exasperation.

“I’m not _that_ innocent,” Phil protested, jostling Dan a little with his shoulder. Dan just rolled his eyes, and took another sip of their coffee.

As they passed the mug back and forth, taking turns drinking from it, they fell into an easy silence. Phil refilled the mug twice, letting Dan take the first, hottest sips from the mug both times. It was sweet, caring. Even if Dan did have a shit heat tolerance in his mouth and just about burned himself both times.

“What is the rest of your week like?” Phil asked suddenly.

Dan’s head snapped up to look at Phil. His face was stoic, and didn’t give any of his intentions away. “I’m working most days, but my nights are all free.” Dan scanned Phil’s face, trying to figure out what he was getting at. “Why?” Dan asked suspiciously.

“I want to take you on a date. Like, a proper fancy date.” Phil sounded adamant, but also a bit nervous.

The apprehension must have shown on Dan’s face. 

“We’ll go somewhere fancy enough that there aren’t likely to be fans, somewhere nice enough where the staff aren’t… gossips.” Phil’s hand slipped from Dan’s hair and turned his chin up. Giant blue eyes stared down at Dan pleadingly. “We can save casual looking sushi dates and movies and other stuff that can be passed off as just mates for later. I just want to be able to take you out on a nice, _real_ date first,” Phil insisted. 

Forget Isabella — Phil was better than _anyone_ Dan had ever been with. Everything he was saying just left Dan feeling overwhelmed. No one had ever wanted to take _him_ on a date. It had always been the other way around, it had always been Dan taking his partners to nice restaurants and trying to spoil them. 

Going out to a fancy restaurant with Phil — completely alone — was definitely a risk. It would be hard to explain if they got caught. Two bros chilling in a fancy restaurant because they’re not gay?

Dan couldn’t be bothered to care though. Whatever the risk was, it was worth it. 

“You’re picking the restaurant, then,” Dan joked, afraid that if he spoke too genuinely — if he let on _how_ touched he was — he’d lose control of his emotions. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” Phil promised softly. “I’ll figure it out, so long as you agree to come.”

Dan nodded, his head bumping into the underside of Phil’s chin. “Of course I’ll come, you spoon.” Dan’s voice wavered slightly, surely giving away his shaky emotions, but he pushed through. Now wasn’t the time for a seriously conversation about coming out or his shitty past relationships. Right now, Dan just wanted to concentrate on Phil. “That sounds nice,” he added, speaking more sincerely this time.

Phil leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Dan’s head. “Good,” he agreed softly. Dan felt his lips quirk up in a soft smile, and he sighed, grateful to finally have a partner that seemed to _care_. 

Passing the mug back to Phil a final time, Dan opted to loop his hand around Phil’s waist instead. The clean expanse of Phil’s chest made for a much better pillow than his cum-covered chest had earlier this morning.

With a directive nudge, Dan pushed Phil’s other hand towards the nightstand, silently encouraging him to set the coffee mug down. When Phil’s hand was free, Dan reached out, intending to push Phil’s fingers into his hair.

Phil beat him to it though. He didn’t need any guidance to play with Dan’s curly locks. _Fuck_ , Phil knew Dan so well already, was already so much better for Dan than Isabella had been. 

“So,” Phil eventually said. “Are your plans with Louise friend stuff, or business stuff tonight?” 

“Mostly friend stuff,” Dan answered. His hand traced up Phil’s side and drew small circles along Phil’s ribcage. “I have dinner with her and Darcy most Sundays, and I think they’re both a bit put out that I didn’t go over last night.” 

That might have been an understatement. While Dan was on his flight home yesterday, Louise had texted Dan a screenshot of the takeaway app and asked what he wanted for dinner. When Dan had said he’d have to postpone _another_ night, that he sort of had lose plans with Phil, Louise had sent him a string of frowny emojis.

Followed by two aubergines and a water explosion.

Dan had chosen not to respond to that _tasteful_ message.

“You could have done that instead of coming to B ‘n G last night,” Phil offered, but he didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic about the idea.

“Trust me,” Dan laughed, his hand splaying across Phil’s chest and grazing his nipple. Beneath his fingertips, Dan felt Phil shudder in response and he didn’t bother to hid his satisfied smile at that. “I think I prefer our last night to take out on Louise’s sofa.”

“Good, I would hope you couldn’t get _that_ from dinner at Louise’s,” Phil teased. His hand slipped down Dan’s back and dipped into the waistband of his pants, his fingers brushing along the top of Dan’s arse. 

Dan blushed, squirming under Phil’s light but hot touch. “Definitely more satisfying than dinner,” Dan admitted into the crook of Phil’s neck.

Phil’s hands shifted, and latched onto Dan’s hips. Dan’s breath was nearly knocked out of him when Phil swiftly pulled Dan on top of him. Their clothed crotches messily slid together and _fuck_ , Dan had already gotten off this morning but he could _easily_ go again. 

Warm breath brushed across Dan’s lips, Phil’s mouth just centimeters from him. “So what time are you free until?” Phil whispered suggestively.

Dan’s eyes squeezed shut as he tried to remember exactly what him and Louise had agreed on when they made plans. He was pretty certain he needed to be there around six, and maybe he was supposed to bring the food with him? It was so hard to concentrate on anything with Phil’s hand sneaking down his pants. “About five,” Dan settled on, hoping it was enough time. “I need to make a few stops before I go over.”

“Mmm, okay,” Phil hummed. “Let’s stay in bed until four then?” he suggested hopefully. 

“Perfect,” Dan agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like and reblog on tumblr 


	23. 23 (7271)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a/n: @auroraphilealis is an amazing cheerleader and there are definitely a few bits of this chapter that i would have pushed a bit less if it weren’t for her comments of “PLEASE. PLEASEEEEE. KATTTTTTT.” lol. and also she’s a great friend and i’m glad y’all knew who to turn to when my blog randomly disappeared

It was half past six when Dan finally made it to Louise’s doorstep, two bags tucked precariously under his arms, his hands shoved in his pockets to protect them from the unexpectedly freezing March air. He was half an hour late and, all things considered, it could have been a lot worse.

Just as Phil had suggested, they’d spent the majority of the day in bed. And by mid afternoon, not only did they need another washing, but the guest bedroom duvet was so thoroughly defiled that Dan was pretty sure he was better off just ordering a new one. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to let his family — or Darcy — sleep under it again without blushing and feeling horrendously guilty.

And fuck, getting out of bed, untangling himself from Phil and forcing himself to be a proper _adult_ tonight had been nearly impossible. They’d had to shower _again_ , and Dan felt like he deserved a bloody award for not blowing Phil _again_. He just looked fucking _gorgeous_ wet and soapy and — _fuck_.

Dan cut off his own train of thought before he could get carried away. If his standing dinner date with Louise and Darcy wasn’t such a high priority in his life, if he wasn’t _so_ determined to never be the person that got a partner and bailed on their friends… well. He would have taken a bath with Phil, instead. 

Refocusing, Dan awkwardly kicked at the bottom of the door in lieu of knocking. It was too cold to draw his hands out of his pockets and, plus, he was convinced he’d drop something if he tried. 

It didn’t take more than a few seconds after Dan had knocked for the door to fly open, and it was accompanied by a reprimand of _Daniel James Howell, where **have** you been?_

Louise’s eyes were narrowed and she was smirking slightly as she stared at Dan. As her eyes scanned slowly up and down Dan’s body, he couldn’t help ducking his chin a little further into his bulky knit scarf. The bags under Dan’s arms shifted precariously, threatening to topple to the ground.

Before he could drop everything — including their dinner — Louise caught the bags. She peered inside, first looking at the massive bag of food, then the smaller gift bag from the toy store.

“Is this for Darcy?” Louise asked suspiciously as she stood firmly in the doorway, looking like she wasn’t planning to let him in unless he explained himself. 

Dan scrunched his shoulders even farther up and nodded, sidestepping around her and weaseling his way into her home. He shot Louise a triumphant smile, to which she merely rolled her eyes.

“You’re going to spoil her rotten, you know,” she said, shaking her head fondly and closing the door with her bum.

“Too late.” Dan shrugged, unzipping his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. “Besides, the gift is as much for you as it is for her.” Dan glanced up through his eyelashes, _waiting_ for the reaction he knew was coming.

Brows furrowed, Louise examined the boutique toy store bag more closely. “How exactly?”

“Well,” Dan started cryptically, barely biting back a wide smirk. “I’m anticipating you wanting a way to keep her busy for awhile after dinner, and I figured a new toy would do nicely.”

Louise’s head cocked, her forehead wrinkling up in confusion. “Wha…?” 

Dan unwrapped his scarf with a cheeky grin and a pointed stare. For a second, Louise didn’t respond — not until her eyes drifted from Dan’s face to his neck, anyway.

“Oh my _god_!” she gasped, voice high and squeaky. “What _happened_?”

Dan instinctively trailed his fingers over his neck, the light pressure aggravating the deep purple bruises on the tender skin ever so slightly. 

“I’ll give you one guess.” Dan answered with a cheeky wink, his tongue pushing at his bottom him. 

“Was it Phil?” Louise gasped, sounding hopeful. “ _Please_ tell me it was Phil.”

“You’ll have to wait until after dinner to find out!” Dan teased. He grabbed the bag of food from Louise and made to turn around. 

“I swear to god, I will book your next interview for seven in the morning if you don’t tell me this second,” Louise threatened before he could take so much as two steps away. 

Dan laughed loudly, his dimples surely showing. “Of course it was Phil, you buffoon.” Without waiting to see Louise’s reaction, Dan headed down the hallway to the kitchen. “Details after dinner. I’m starved, barely eaten all day.”

Groaning, Louise hurried to follow behind him.

“You’re such a saucy tease,” she complained when she caught up to him.

“You love me anyway,” Dan teased back with a smirk. 

In the kitchen, Dan sat the bag of food down on the counter. “I got everything ready since you were _late_ ,” Louise scolded playfully. 

Sure enough, there was already a stack of plates and silverware on the counter, so Dan set about unpacking the food and lining the containers up in neat row. He left the frankly ridiculous amount of dips in the bag — they’d be easier to transport to the table that way. 

“Darcy!” Dan called in a high, singsong voice. He was surprised that she wasn’t already around; she usually followed Louise to the door. 

The pitter-patter of socked feet running down the hallway was Dan’s only warning before Darcy was suddenly sliding into him and hugging onto his thighs. 

“You’re late, Uncle Dan!” she scolded cutely.

 _Jesus_ , like mother like daughter. 

“Sorry, Darce,” Dan apologized. “Look, I brought you a present, though!”

“Ooooooh!” Darcy quickly withdrew from Dan and raised up on her tiptoes to try to get the bag off the counter. 

“Ah ah ha!” Dan pushed the present back, out of the reach of her tiny hands. “You can have it after dinner,” he promised.

Louise narrowed her eyes, but Dan could see her lips itching to quirk up into a smile. “You’re enjoying making us both suffer, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little.” Dan flashed her a smug smile. “I had to wait _months_ for this to happen, you can wait to hear about it until we’ve eaten.”

Louise grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like _you suck_ beneath her breath, but nonetheless turned her attention to fixing up their plates for dinner. Using the plastic spoons that had come with the take out, Louise scooped bits from each container onto their plates. 

For his part, Dan took the dips to the table, taking them out of the bag and organizing them into a line in the middle for ease of access..

Doing her best to be helpful, Darcy trailed after Dan, knelt on a chair, and started prying the lids off the sauces as Dan put them down. Twice, she nearly spilled the entire container of dip, either by bumping one or wrestling with the lid too fiercely, but each time Dan was able to right the container before it could spill all over Louise’s pink tablecloth. And despite Dan’s attempts to keep the dips in neat order, Darcy was dropping them back onto the table randomly once she’d gotten the lids off. There was no point in fixing them, though; they’d probably just get out of line again. 

Dan and Darcy had only just finished up, with Dan settling Darcy properly into her seat, when Louise walked over. 

“I’ve got our food, but can you grab Darcy’s?” Two plates piled high with food, and the water pitcher were already precariously balanced in her hands. 

“No problem.” Turning around, Dan headed back into the kitchen to grab the last plate and the silverware, before returning to Darcy and Louise’s sides. 

“Mummy do I _have_ to wait until after dinner for Uncle Dan’s present?” Darcy pouted, her fork and spoon still steadfastly on the table. 

Louise flashed Dan a quick glare. “Unfortunately, sweetie. Uncle Dan is being a meanie tonight, but maybe if you eat quickly you can have it sooner.”

Louise settled in her chair and immediately picked up her spoon, digging into the Indian food in front of her. Darcy followed suit, saying absolutely nothing but taking _far_ too big of a bite for her small mouth to handle. Evidently they were both eager to get through the _eating_ portion of the evening. Normally, their dinners were chatty and long, but neither of them seemed inclined to make conversation tonight.

Sure, Dan _got_ why they were so anxious to finish their food, and _okay_ , it was _kind of_ his fault. But their weekly dinners were his time to catch up with Louise with absolutely _no_ work talk, and when he was bound to hear all of Darcy’s six year old gossip. When he’d loomed presents and a hot story over their heads, he hadn’t exactly expected them to stop talking entirely. 

“So,” Dan started when it became evident that neither Louise nor Darcy were going to talk. “Adaline said to tell you both hello and that she was sad she didn’t get a chance to see you.”

“That’s nice of her, she’ll have to stay longer next time.” Louise took another bite, speaking through her food. “How’d she like Germany?”

“She _loved_ it. I’d never had the chance to travel with just her, like, without our parents, so we got to hang out in a different way. I feel like I got to see a different side of her.”

Louise glanced up between bites. “That’s fantastic. What did you two do?”

“I let her decide, for the most part. On Sunday, we got completely—” Dan’s eyes flickered to Darcy, who was staring curiously at Dan. “Um, we went to a biergarden.”

“Ooooh,” Louise cooed around a mouthful of rice. “How was that?”

“Great! We both had one of those pretzels, you know the ones that —” 

“Uncle Dan?” Darcy cut in. “What happened to your throat?”

Oh _fuck_.

Dan felt his heart come to a crashing _halt,_ and his hand flew up to cover his neck, even though it was clearly too late. The damage was done.

“Uh, nothing Darcy. It’s fine.” Dan tried to keep his voice neutral, but he sounded shaky even to his own ears.

“Nuh _uhhh_ ,” Darcy whined in protest. “You’ve got brwuises. How did you get hurt _there_?” Darcy stood up on her chair, dramatically poking Dan’s neck.

“I, uh...” Desperately, Dan looked to Louise for help, but she was smirking at Dan, her expression filled with mirth. 

“Yeah, Dan. Tell us, how _did_ you get hurt, hmm?” Louise teased. In any other situation, Louise would be scolding Darcy, would be ordering her to put her bum _back on the chair_ , but _no_. Not tonight. Tonight, Louise was taking _no_ mercy on Dan. 

Dan shot Louise a look that he hoped said _fuck you_. 

“I, um, burned myself with my straightener.”

“But your hair is curly,” Darcy pointed out, looking confused.

“And you haven’t straightened your hair in _years_ ,” Louise supplied unhelpfully.

Dan felt himself sinking further and further into his seat, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow him whole. Why the hell had he used _that_ as his excuse? 

“Well, I, um, thought it would be fun to do for, uh, old time’s sake.” The grave was just getting deeper and deeper, and the words were coming out of Dan’s mouth before he fully had time to process what he was saying. “I stopped when I burnt myself though. Figured it was best to not risk it.” Dan awkwardly chuckled, hoping Darcy would drop it.

She didn’t.

“But why did you burn _both_ sides of your neck?” Darcy pushed.

 _Fucking hell, this child_ …

There was no getting out of this gracefully, Dan was certain of that. Better to just abort.

“Why don’t you eat so you can have your present sooner, yeah?” Dan took a pointed, _massive_ bite of his food and refused to look up at either of them.

He heard a grumbled _fine_ , and the soft rustling of Darcy settling down. When he glanced back up, Darcy was seated again and was studiously chewing her food. A quick look at Louise proved that she was just as fixated on her meal as her daughter.

With a sigh, Dan gave in. Apparently tonight just wasn’t going to be a talkative dinner.

They ate in silence, both Darcy and Louise cleared their plates _much_ faster than Dan.

“I’m finished!” Darcy said the moment she’d finished her food, and primly sat her napkin on the table before looking at Dan expectantly. 

“Okay, okay,” he relented. It’s not like they were getting anything out of sitting around the table tonight, anyway. Dan dropped his fork onto his half-full plate and tipped his chair backward. He _just_ managed to swipe the present off the counter and right his chair, gravity very nearly pulling him all the way to the floor. “Here you go,” Dan said with a smile when his chair was righted again. 

“Yayyy!” Darcy crawled up on her chair and sat on her knees in excitement, making small grabby hands at Dan.

Dan chuckled and passed her the bag. 

Darcy didn’t waste any time; the second the bag was in front of her, she was pulling the tissue paper out and diving in, pulling out the box inside.

“Makeup!” Darcy cried excitedly as she inspected the products displayed in the box. Smiling fondly, Dan watched as her tiny fingers ran across the plastic holding the makeup in, her face awestruck. “Can I do your makeup, Uncle Dan? Please please please please please?”

Dan’s gaze flickered to Louise. He could tell she was impatient to talk about Phil — and, undoubtedly, what the marks on his neck meant — but Darcy was too cute, too eager, to deny.

“Of course,” Dan agreed. He pushed his unfinished plate of food away; he could eat the rest later. “Let’s go do it in the loo.”

A small _huff_ from Louise caught Dan’s attention, and he looked up to find her opening and closing her mouth aimlessly. She looked like she was torn between wanting to interrupt them, and letting Dan have time with Darcy. 

“Wait!” Louise interrupted. “You can only do his makeup if you promise to play by yourself for a while afterwards so Mummy can talk to Uncle Dan,” she finally said, giving in.

“Okay!” Darcy grabbed Dan’s hand immediately, her small fingers barely wrapping around his palm. With all the force that her six-year-old body was capable of, Darcy dragged Dan into the bathroom and pushed him down on the edge of the tub. 

She thrust the box of makeup into his hands. “Can you open it, please?”

“No problem.” Dan set about opening the children’s makeup kit, taking the various eyeshadows, blushes, and lipsticks from the plastic and placing them on the ground next to them. “What color are you going to give me for my eyes?”

“Hmmm…” Darcy studied the powders before picking up a hot pink product that Dan was fairly certain was actually blush. “This one!” 

“That looks great, I love it.” Dan smiled, quietly proud of Darcy for not picking out the bright blue shadow because it was a _boy’s color_. 

“Close your eyes,” Darcy ordered as she rubbed one of the brushes — a brush far too big for eyeshadow — in the powder.

Dan obediently closed his eyes, just seconds before the brush made contact with his eyelid. Darcy’s hands were clumsy and her fine motor skills were still kind of shit. If the feeling was anything to go by, Dan’s entire eyelids — and probably his eyebrows — were going to be bright pink.

The soft sweeping of the brush stopped. “Okay, open.”

Dan’s eyes fluttered open, and he could feel some of the loose powder falling off his eyes and land on his cheeks. Oh well, there was probably going to be plenty more color on his face by the time Darcy was done; a bit of hot pink dust wasn’t going to matter.

“Are you going to put something on my cheeks?” Dan asked, looking at the other blush options.

“Yes!” Much to Dan’s amusement, she didn’t go for of the blushes, though. Instead, she picked up an eyeshadow.

A bright purple eyeshadow.

That was going to look _great_ on his cheeks.

Whatever, she was doing what _she_ wanted to do, and besides, rules were stupid and arbitrary. If she wanted to use purple powder that was _technically_ meant for eyes on his cheeks, what did it matter?

Darcy squished the same brush into the purple powder, absolutely _covering_ the brush in the stuff, and brought it up to Dan’s cheeks. Just like his eyes, she completely failed to contain the product to the appropriate region. The brush swept all over Dan’s cheeks, all the way from his cheek bones down to his mouth. _Lovely_.

“Lipstick!” Darcy exclaimed, dropping the brush onto the ledge and fumbling with the different lipstick options. She settled on a bright, pumpkin orange option. “Go like this,” she commanded before scrunching her lips up into a kissy pout. 

Dan mimicked her, loosening his lips a little like Louise has made him do when she’s put lipstick on him in the past. Hand shaking slightly, Darcy brought the lipstick up to Dan’s mouth and smeared it on, definitely getting a lot of it _around_ Dan’s mouth, in addition to on it. 

“You’re done!” Darcy dropped the lipstick and grabbed Dan’s hand, pulling him over to the mirror so he could see her work. “Do you like it, Uncle Dan?”

Frankly, it was a complete mess. Dan could tell while she was putting it on that it was probably all over his face, but, if anything, he’d underestimated just _how_ much of a mess it was. His eyebrows were completely caked in the hot pink powder, and his cheeks had messy, massive purple circles. And his mouth, _jesus_ , his mouth was absolutely covered in the orange lipstick. It didn’t help that the makeup kit was designed for kids — meaning that the colors were all _much_ brighter than adult makeup.

“I love it, Darce,” Dan gushed loudly. And, really, despite how ridiculous he looked, Dan really did love it. In the past, he’d really only messed around with concealer and mascara, but having so _much_ makeup on his face kind of made Dan want to explore it properly. To see what blush and eyeshadow and lipstick would all look like if they were applied neatly. 

And spending time with Darcy had been good too; it’d been too long since they’d had quality time together and they’d both had fun doing it.

“Come on, come on, let’s go show Mummy!” Darcy ran out of the bathroom, running ahead of Dan to the lounge. Dan chuckled, remembering when he’d once had that much energy. Like one time. Back when he was eight. 

“Mummy, Mummy! Look at Dan! He looks like a princess!” Darcy was shouting. As Dan turned the corner, he found that she was tugging on Louise’s arm. Louise twisted around on the sofa to turn her attention to Dan, who was hovering impishly in the doorway. Louise’s eyes grew wide, and she was smiling with her lips clamped together; Dan knew her well enough to know that she was just barely biting back laughter — years of friendship filled with awkward and embarrassing moments had taught him to recognize _that_ face. 

“He looks _beautiful_!” Laughter was bubbling up, threatening to completely disrupt Louise’s sentence. Luckily, Darcy didn’t seem to notice her mum’s amusement. 

“I wanna do mine now!” Darcy cheered, already running back towards the door. “When I’m done, can I do yours, Mummy?”

“Um, Mummy has to…” Louise started, trailing off. Dan could see the reluctance on Louise’s face — she undoubtedly didn’t want to have to halt her conversation with Dan so that Darcy could spend half an hour making her look like Dan.

Louise glanced at the clock and shifted tactics. “After you’re done with yours, I think it will be reading time before bed. You can do mine tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay!” Darcy agreed as she scampered off back to the loo, brushing passed Dan on her way out of the lounge.

When Darcy was out of earshot, Louise turned to Dan, repressed laughter finally bubbling out. “Let me get you a makeup wipe. There’s no way I can take you seriously looking like that.”

Dan glanced behind him towards where Darcy had run off to, a frown pulling at his lips. “Darcy will be sad if she comes back in here and I’ve taken it off,” he said, concerned that he might hurt Darcy’s feelings. “I’ll take it off when she’s gone to bed.” Dan crossed the room, solidifying his resolve to leave the outrageous makeup on for a while. 

Louise sighed and shook her head, but she scooched over on the sofa to make room for Dan anyway. “You’re too good of an uncle sometimes. It’s bloody annoying.”

“You love it and you know it.” Dan plopped down on the couch, immediately curling up. He eyed the coffee table and was surprised to see nothing on it. “I was hoping you’d pour us some wine. Hot gossip demands wine, you know.”

Louise’s gaze followed Dan’s, and her eyes light up with recognition. “Oops, I knew I was forgetting something. Hang on, I’ll be just a tick.” Louise stood up and made her way to the kitchen.

While Dan was waiting for Louise to come back, he took a quick selfie to send to Phil. Well, he took more like _eight_ selfies, each one featuring a slightly different pout and angle. Quickly scanning the options, Dan picked the best one and attached it to a message to Phil. 

**Dan [7:49PM]** : would you still take me on a nice date if you showed up and i looked like this

Phil’s response came faster than Dan had been anticipating — before Louise got back with the wine even. Three messages came in rapid succession, new ones appearing before Dan could even get chance to start typing.

 **Phil [7:51PM]:** Oh my god you look hilarious

 **Phil [7:51PM]:** What happened? Darcy?

 **Phil [7:52PM]:** And of course I’d still take you on a date, but I don’t know if Hutong would appreciate it.

Dan’s jaw dropped at the mention of Hutong. When Phil had said he would take Dan somewhere nice, Dan hadn’t exactly anticipated having a date at the bloody _Shard_. From what he’d seen of pictures online, Dan knew the restaurant was _beautiful,_ and had a stunning view. He’d seen reviews, too — he knew the food was supposed to be phenomenal, but pricey as all hell. 

Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been _that_. He hadn’t expected Phil to go _all fucking out_ for their first date. _Jesus on a fucking tricycle_. Dan took a few steadying breaths and typed what he hoped counted as a calm response.

 **Dan [7:54PM]:** hutong? fancy fancy. i guess i’ll skip the bright purple cheeks then

Louise came back with two overfilled glasses of red wine, as well as the rest of the bottle, before Dan could explain _why_ he looked like this to Phil. Passing Dan one of the glasses, Louise sat on the opposite end of the couch and faced Dan.

“Okay, _spill_ ,” she demanded.

Lips pulling into a wide smile, Dan found himself lost for what to say. There weren’t enough words in the english language to describe how fucking _happy_ he was, how _amazing_ last night — and this morning — had been. Absentmindedly, Dan spun the stemless wine glass between his palms while he searched for words, careful not to actually spill on Louise’s white sofa. “I don’t even know where to start,” he eventually admitted.

Louise smiled sympathetically, seeming to realize that Dan wasn’t just trying to make her wait longer. Taking mercy on him, Louise prompted Dan with something specific to talk about. “You said you were going to go to B ‘n G last night. Start there.”

“Alright,” Dan took a sip of his wine, stalling for time so he could figure out what to say. He felt his phone vibrate against his leg, but he knew Louise would probably throw it out the window if he dared to look at it right now. “Uhm, so last night. I went to B ‘n G right after I dropped Adaline off at the train station. And — _fuck_. I got there and he was working, right? And there were a bunch of fucking uni students there, too.” Dan rolled his eyes and took a drink. “There was _so_ _much_ bloody sexual tension. Like, we both knew that this thing between us was really going to happen, but... we were in public and there were people around. It’s not like we could exactly jump each other right then, so…”

“So what happened? You obviously did something afterwards,” Louise prompted with a waggle of her eyebrows.

“Well, yeah.” Dan took another sip of wine in preparation for the next part of the story. “There’s kind of an important bit of drama before that though.”

Louise’s eyebrows shot up and a look of concern clouded her face. “What?”

“Guess who showed up at the coffee shop?” Dan couldn’t stop his tone from coming out harsher, darker. 

“Oh dear, who?” Louise stared at Dan imploringly. “I’m guessing it wasn’t good.”

“Not at all,” Dan agreed with a resigned shake of his head. He took a drink — a _much_ needed drink — before answering. “Isabella.”

Louise’s jaw _dropped_ and she was speechless for nearly a full minute. “ _Why_?”

Dan shook his head, lost at how to communicate just _how_ much of a shitshow it had been.

Wine. Wine might help. 

Holding up a finger to make Louise wait, Dan swallowed the rest of his wine in three large gulps. His actions must have spoken volumes, because Louise drained her wine as well and promptly poured them each another glass. 

Dan accepted it graciously, staring into it for comfort.

“She wanted to get back together,” Dan explained hallowly. “And apparently shout a bunch of really shitty stuff at me and Phil — well, mainly Phil.”

Louise looked just as outraged as Dan had felt when Isabella made her demands. In the eighteen years that Dan had known her, he’d never seen _that_ expression on Louise’s face. Every ounce of niceness, of warmth, was gone and was replaced with sheer _disgust_. “She _what_?” 

“I don’t really want to get into, tbh.” Taking another long drink of his wine, Dan shrugged and rolled his eyes. “It was shit. It was so obvious that she just missed the media attention, and there was more of her same bi-erasure crap, and she accused Phil of _turning me gay_ , whatever that means. Plus, she tried to accuse me of cheating on her with Phil, which was some first class _bullshit_.” 

Louise’s eyes were growing wider and wider as Dan relayed the story. It was clear that she was desperate to interrupt him, but Dan kept going, raising a hand to silently tell her to just _hold on_ a second. 

Because fuck knows he was nowhere near done with this story. 

“Oh it gets worse,” Dan continued. “She tried to _kiss me_ — well, I guess technically she _did_ kiss me, but I pushed her away.” 

Louise gasped loudly, but didn’t interject. Dan laughed humorlessly, his eyes rolling in distaste. “I thought Phil was going to have a heart attack. Isabella lost her fucking _shit_ , though, and swore to the high heavens that I’d regret it. Like _fuck_ will I regret not getting back together with her.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Louise gasped. “Do you think she’ll do something to get revenge somehow?”

Dan cocked his head. He hadn’t really considered that. 

“I assumed she just meant that I’d miss her. Which I won’t. Obviously.”

“I’m not sure that’s what she meant, Dan,” Louise warned warily.

“Really?” Dan’s brows furrowed. “I don’t think she’s _so_ crazy that she’d try to get revenge.”

Louise shot him a skeptical look. “We’ve already discovered that she’s absolutely batshit, I wouldn’t underestimate her if I were you.”

Dan shrugged and took a long drink of wine. “Whatever. I’m so fucking _done_ with her, and I’m so _happy_ that I can’t imagine anything she could do to really hurt me.”

“I don’t know about —” Louise started, but Dan was sick of the topic already.

“Look, can we drop it please?” Dan’s voice was terse and it didn’t particularly come out like a question. The two minutes that he’d dedicated to talking about Isabella already felt like too much, and he could feel a raging headache coming on if he had to stomach the conversation for another half second. 

Besides, that’s not what tonight, what this conversation, was supposed to be focused on. 

“Fine, fine,” Louise acquiesced, but it was evident she didn’t want to move on from the topic yet. “Just be careful okay?”

Rolling his eyes, Dan drained the rest of his wine and refilled his glass _again_ , topping Louise’s off as well.

“Finish the story, then. You said you were happy?” Louise smirked knowingly and glanced down at Dan’s neck again. 

“Yeah, yeah I am.” Dan giggled, a reverent smile taking over his face. The memories of last night came washing back and, for a moment, he got lost in them. The way it had felt when Phil had touched him, the sight of his mouth trailing over Dan’s skin...

“Because…” Louise prompted.

Shifting to sit more upright, Dan continued, “After all that shit with Isabella, Phil offered to take me out for a drink, to calm down or whatever, so I told him to meet me at my flat when he was done closing up.”

“Awe,” Louise cooed. “What a gentleman.”

“I got back home, though, and I realized that I really, _really_ didn’t want to go back in public with him. Like, the whole fucking evening we had to toe line of what was okay for being in public and I didn’t want that anymore.”

Louise winked, a smirk on her face. She’d known Dan _plenty_ long — she knew how Dan could be once he had _that_ on the mind.

“So I made us a pitcher of drinks, you know, to derail the whole going out plan.”

“Daniel James Howell!” Louise scolded, the smile falling from her face. “Did you do this drunk?” 

“No, we barely had more than one drink each,” Dan defended. Him and Louise had gone over his intentions with Phil — and his determination to be in a clear mind when anything happened — and he was _almost_ a little offended that she’d thought he would just throw that away. 

_Almost_. Not entirely though, given his track record of hookups. 

“Anyway, at first we just talked. I told him everything — and I mean _everything_ — about Isabella and why we broke up. And he listened and said he wanted to be different and just, _cared_ — wait.” Dan cut himself off. “He actually said something really important during all of that. And I’m going to use it as my album title."

Louise blinked rapidly, clearly thrown by the sudden shift in conversation. “What did he say?”

“He was talking about Isabella and he made a comment about how she is better off loving herself, and it just hit me. _Love yourself._ ”

Louise smiled widely, her face softening. “It’s _perfect_ ,” she whispered. She’d heard Dan ramble about the album more than anyone, and if she thought it was fitting, too, then that meant it was definitely the right title. She wiggled around in her seat, and nudged Dan’s wine glass pointedly. “Tell me more about that later, though. Get back to Phil.”

“Well, I kind of told him that I _did_ break up with Isabella because I had feelings for him — at least partially.” Dan’s cheeks flushed as he got closer to the part of the story he knew Louise was waiting for. “And I don’t know, one thing led to another and we kissed,” Dan said, trying to brush over the juicier bits.

“Dan,” Louise said, quirking a brow in amusement. Her tone was almost condescending as she needlessly reminded him, “You don’t get hickeys just from kissing.”

“Fine, fine,” Dan relented. “We did more than kiss, happy?”

“No!” Louise exclaimed indignantly. “Tell me more! I want _details_.”

Dan felt his cheeks grow even warmer. The last twenty four hours with Phil had been so fucking _hot_ , and he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting back and replaying the details. Every single time they’d touched had felt electric, and Dan couldn’t shake the image of Phil kissing his way down his chest, down his stomach, up his thighs, and… 

“No sex but, uh, plenty else,” Dan confessed awkwardly.

Dumbfounded, Louise’s jaw dropped and she nearly dribbled out the sip of wine she’d just taken. “No sex?! Why?”

“Last night we were too eager to get farther than, um, sloppy handjobs.” Dan blushed deeply, his gaze dropping to his wine glass momentarily. “I mean, we’d basically had _months_ of foreplay and just couldn’t wait any longer.” 

Dan awkwardly cleared his throat, and looked back up at Louise. “And then this morning we were in the shower, so _sex_ , um, wasn’t really an option.” From his neck to his ears, Dan was certain that his entire face was on fire by this point. “And this afternoon we just got carried away again and didn’t, um, _last_ long enough for that.”

Louise didn’t bother to stifle her giggles, but she _did_ set her wine down on the table so she could laughly freely without spilling it. Dan knew whatever she had to say was probably only going to further his humiliation. 

“Are you fourteen again?” she sputtered through her laughter.

Dan buried his face in his hands but didn’t try to defend himself — he had come unbelievably fast every time they’d done _anything_ so far. Hell, he’d basically come just from _blowing_ Phil. There was no point in denying how young they’d acted.

“Shuddup, it was new and exciting.” Dan dropped his hands and took a drink from his wine glass. “Beside, I um, kinda want sex to be…” Dan trailed off bashfully, turning his attention down to the hole in his jeans and fiddling with the loose strings.

“To be what?” Louise asked, head tilted and lips pursed. Much to Dan’s disappointment, she looked genuinely baffled. He’d kind of hoped that she would just _get_ what he meant without him having to actually say anything.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Dan mumbled without looking up from his trousers.

“I’ll do my best,” Louise promised. Her foot reached out and nudged Dan’s leg, drawing Dan’s attention back up to her face.

“I just kind of want _that_ to be special,” Dan admitted sheepishly. “Like, Phil’s special, so it feels like maybe the sex should be, too. It’s never been, like, a _thing_ with anyone before.”

“Mmm,” Louise hummed as she took a sip of her wine. “Sex hasn’t meant anything to you before, but it will with Phil?”

“Yeah,” Dan looked back down at his exposed knee and traced his fingers along the rip of his jeans. “Suddenly it feels like it’s… I dunno. More than just sex, I guess.”

Louise poked her foot into his thigh again, and he looked up. “Dan, I think that’s great. That’s a real sign of growth, and honestly, I never expected to hear _you_ talk about sex that way. You’ve always talked about how sex makes you happy, so you seek it out. I guess I just assumed that… it wouldn’t ever be an important _step_ in a relationship for you. But I’m really happy for you. I’m proud of this whole new outlook you seem to have on relationships.”

“It’s not really _relationships_ ,” Dan corrected. “It’s _Phil_.”

“So, Phil is different from everyone else. More meaningful?” Louise smiled softly.

“Yeah, he is,” Dan agreed, his eyes trained on his knee again. At least that way he had a _chance_ of hiding his bright red cheeks from Louise.

In search of a distraction, or a change in subject, Dan cast a look around the room. His phone was still face down on the sofa between them and — _shit_ , _right_. He’d been in the middle of a conversation with Phil, and his phone had vibrated a while back. Eager to shift the conversation from his embarrassing confession, Dan dug his phone out from where it had slid under his bum and unlocked it. 

Just as he’d expected, there was an unread message from Phil.

It took Dan a few seconds to process what Phil had said, but when the meaning of Phil’s message finally registered, Dan’s jaw _dropped_.

**Phil [8:04PM]:** I’m not going to lie, though. The thought of you in proper lipstick is kind of hot.

“What?” Louise demanded, clearly noticing Dan’s shocked expression.

“I, um, I…” Dan couldn’t manage to string together a coherent thought. Images were flooding his mind — images he didn’t particularly want to be thinking about in front of Louise. “It’s maybe a little kinky,” he choked out.

“Oh my god, tell me _right now_ , Daniel Howell.” 

“I sent him a picture of _this_.” Dan waved his hand around his face, hyper aware of how silly he must have looked to Louise during this whole conversation. “And we joked about it and whatever. But then he sent, uh, another message.”

Louise’s face contorted into a look of disbelief and confusion. “Dan, I love you to bits, but there is nothing sexy about how you look right now. Half of your face is _purple_.”

“Not _this_ , specifically.” Dan pointed at his face with a pointed glare. “Just, like, the concept.”

“Ooooh,” Louise hummed scandalously. “Is he into that?”

Dan didn’t drop his glare but he could feel the blush on his cheeks deepen even more. “Just the, uh, lipstick.”

“You can take any of mine you want,” she offered eagerly.

Dan shifted his gaze to his lap nervously. “Not _tonight_. I feel like we should have _sex_ first.” Dan glanced up shyly. “But maybe we can go shopping at some point?”

Before Louise could answer, Darcy ran back in the room and jumped onto the sofa between them. 

“Mummy, mummy! Look at my makeup!” 

Dan bit back a laugh, smiling at Darcy’s makeup. Just like when she’d done his face, she’d paid no regards to rules about where makeup was supposed to go, and what product was meant for which parts. From the looks of it, she’d tried to make the lipstick into a crude attempt at eyeliner, and had bright red rings around her eyes. Like Dan, her cheeks were sporting eyeshadow instead of blush — although hers were a bright blue color. 

“It looks lovely, sweetie!” Louise cooed.

“Uncle Dan and I match now!” Excited, Darcy bounced on her knees. Dan felt a smidgen bad about giving her a present that had apparently riled her up so close to bedtime.

“You do,” Louise agreed. “You both look beautiful.”

“Will you take our picture, Mummy?” Darcy crawled into Dan’s lap without waiting for an answer, and flashed Louise a pair of big puppy-dog eyes — a look she’d learned from Dan.

“I’d love to.” Louise swiped Dan’s phone off of the sofa and aimed the camera at them. “Say cheese!”

Cheeks pressed close together, they both smiled widely at Louise. 

“Cheeeeeeese!” Darcy squealed. 

Giggling, Dan pulled Darcy in a little closer. “Cheese!” 

Louise took several photos, and Dan turned to press a sloppy kiss on Darcy’s cheek in the last one. When he pulled back, there was a mess of orange lipstick overtop of the blue powder on her cheeks.

Louise passed Dan back his phone and he swiped through the pictures. They were all _adorable_ , and if it weren’t for the hickeys that were prominently showing on his neck, Dan would have considered tweeting one of them.

“Alright, lovely. It’s time for your bedtime.” 

“I want Uncle Dan to tuck me in!”

“Let’s go brush your teeth and wash your face and then he can put you to bed.”

“But I like my makeup,” Darcy pouted, crossing her arms in front her chest and stomping.

“You don’t want to get your sheets all mucked up, though.” Louise scooped Darcy up and stood. “If you’re good, maybe Uncle Dan will even read you a book.”

“Really!?” Darcy looked excitedly to Dan.

“Any book you want,” Dan promised. 

“Okay! Let’s go, Mummy!”

Louise giggled and carried Darcy to the loo. “We’ll be back in a minute to get you, Daniel!” 

Taking advantage of the moment alone, Dan opened his conversation with phone and typed a quick response.

 **Dan [8:19PM]:** noted.

Phil must not be busy tonight, because his response came quickly.

 **Phil [8:20PM]:** Maybe just not bright orange

 **Dan [8:21PM]:** not sexually attracted to pumpkins? im hurt phil

 **Phil [8:22PM]:** No but I am ridiculously sexually attracted to you.

Even from across London, Phil was making Dan blush. Dan stared at Phil’s message, savoring the fact that not only was Phil _ridiculously_ attracted to him, but also the fact that _that_ was something they were allowed to _say_ , now. Dan sort of wanted that message framed and hung on his wall so he could see it every day.

 **Dan [8:24PM]:** i can tell. you made a right mess of me today

 **Dan [8:25PM]:** what color would you be interested in

 **Dan [8:25PM]:** theoretically.

Biting his lip — and probably getting orange all over his teeth in the process — Dan stared anxiously at his phone while waited for a response. 

**Phil [8:26PM]:** Theoretically? Dark red.

 **Phil [8:26PM]:** And theoretically, I imagine it’d go well with stockings.

 _Fuck fuck fuck_.

The image of himself in dark red lipstick and black stockings, with Phil kissing up his leg… _fuck_. 

Dan could _not_ get a boner right now.

 **Dan [8:27PM]:** abort

Dan realized that his message probably made it sound like he wasn’t into what Phil was suggesting, rather than that he was _too_ into it. He quickly typed out a second message.

 **Dan [8:27PM]:** i have to read darcy a story in like .2 seconds and i can’t do that if you get me worked up again

 **Phil [8:28PM]:** Oops

 **Phil [8:28PM]:** When do I get to see you again?

Dan tabbed over to his calendar, and grimaced at the fact that the next _four days_ were blocked off from morning ‘til evening, all just with the description _STUDIO_ **.**

And sure, he had a whole fuckton more direction and inspiration than he had twenty four hours ago. And sure, he already had a chorus of lyrics rattling about his head. 

But fuck he didn’t want to be a responsible adult. He just wanted to see Phil.

 **Dan [8:30PM]:** i have to work during the day all week, but i can do dinner any night

 **Phil [8:31PM]:** Tomorrow night then. I’ll make a reservation and pick you up. 7 okay?

 **Dan [8:32PM]:** perfect. come over a little earlier? i wanna be with you alone before we have to go out in public

 **Phil [8:32PM]:** I’ll be there at 6 xx

 **Dan [8:33PM]:** fine. but make the reservation for 8 then xx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like and reblog on tumblr 


	24. 24 (14,284)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: @auroraphilealis, you’re a great beta. i love you through thick and thin, even when i want to strangle you for being right.
> 
> a/n2: y’all voted for extra time and longer chapters, so here, this literally could have been two chapters but i made it one :) as a reminder, all skippable smut is between the ~*~*~* (if you skip other stuff, you do risk missing plot)

The walk from the entryway to Dan’s doorman might have been the most nerve wracking fifteen seconds of Phil’s life. There was absolutely _no_ logical reason for Phil to be this nervous. He’d known Dan for _months_ now, it was abundantly clear how much they liked each other, they’d already… fooled around. Sure, there hadn’t been a _what are we_ conversation (yet), but Dan had also roundaboutly announced on live radio — and during his concert — that he was writing an entire _album_ because of Phil.

There was literally no need to be this nervous.

And yet, Phil’s hands were clamped so tightly around the bundle of white roses he’d bought that his knuckles were whiter than the flowers. 

“Hi,” Phil greeted the doorman — a different one this time — awkwardly. “I’m here to see Dan Howell, um, I think I should be on his visitors list?”

“ID please?” The doorman held his hand out passively. 

Cursing himself for not already having it handy even though he knew, _he knew_ , that security would need it, Phil fumbled with the flowers and dug his ID out of his wallet. Wordlessly, the doorman took it from Phil’s shaking hand. He only glanced at it for a fleeting a second before cracking open the massive book that Phil had seen last time he’d visited Dan’s apartment. Still slightly intimidated by the entire process of _having security_ , Phil carefully watched the doorman’s face, watched the way his eyes flickered from Phil to the book and back to his ID.

“One moment sir. I need to take a photocopy.” The doorman turned his back on Phil, and placed his ID on a small copier behind the desk.

 _What the hell?_ Phil had been here two nights ago and all he’d had to do then was sign the ledger. Now they suddenly needed a copy of his ID?

Brows furrowed, Phil glanced down at the book while the doorman had his back turned, and his eye immediately caught on his name — and his breath caught in his throat.

 _Philip Lester_ was very clearly written under _temporary visitors_ , but there was a harsh black line running through the middle of his name. 

Maybe there was a reason to be nervous after all. 

“Here you go, Mr. Lester,” the doorman said monotonously, handing Phil back his ID. “Right this way.”

But — but. If Phil was _crossed off_ Dan’s visitors list, there was _no way_ he’d be let up.

Startled, Phil’s eyes darted back to the book, wondering if he’d missed something somehow. He hadn’t. His name was still there, crossed off under the _temporary visitors_ list. 

Phil drug his eyes away slowly, emotionally preparing himself to be _escorted out_ , and then — 

And then his eyes caught on his name in a different place. 

And this time, it wasn’t crossed out. This time, it was under the _permanent visitors_ list.

 _Jesus_. Whatever Phil had been expecting tonight, it hadn’t been that. He didn’t really know how being on a permanent visitors list worked, but he guessed it wasn’t an insignificant step. 

Suddenly, the shaking of Phil’s hands, the quivering of his heart, the weakness in his knees — it all melted away. If Dan had felt good enough about Phil after _one night_ to move him from temporary guests, to _permanent_ , then surely Phil was putting too much pressure on tonight’s date.

The doorman inserted his key into the lift and pressed the button for the seventh floor, and then Phil was alone with his thoughts again. Two minutes ago, the quiet rumble of the lift wouldn’t have been able to drown out Phil’s anxieties, and would have probably agitated him further. Now, however, the noise didn’t bother him and Phil felt surprisingly calmer on the ride up to Dan’s. Shifting the flowers between his hands, Phil shook out his fingers, trying to bring the blood back to them so they weren’t so obviously stark white.

The lift doors opened to Dan’s flat, and Phil stepped out, a few of the nerves rushing back. Normally picking someone up for a date entailed knocking on their door, not stepping directly into their flat.

“Um, Dan?” Phil took a tentative step towards the main hallway and hoped that Dan could hear him.

“Two seconds!” Dan yelled back from what sounded like his bedroom. “Just sit down in the lounge or something.”

Phil laughed and made his way to Dan’s lounge. “Take your time!” Phil called loudly.

It was somehow endearing that Dan wasn’t ready (and, frankly, was probably more than _two seconds_ away from being so). In the time that Phil had known Dan, he’d learned that Dan had a rubbish sense of time and that, combined with how he tended to passionately get wrapped up in whatever was in front of him, usually made Dan late. It really should have come as no surprise to Phil that Dan wasn’t quite ready yet. Especially since they weren’t supposed to leave for an hour and a half.

Which.

Well. 

Okay. Phil didn’t think he was _crazy_ for reading into what Dan had meant when he’d said he wanted _alone time_ before their date. And if Phil was right… Well, if Phil was right, there wasn’t much of a point behind Dan _getting ready_ right now, was there?

All the same, Phil sat on Dan’s sofa for nearly fifteen minutes, slowly sinking back from being perched on the very edge nervously to relaxed into the squishy back. The flowers in his hand slipped from perfectly upright to sagging between his knees. 

Phil really should have anticipated this. And he _really_ should have known better than to show up five minutes early. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Dan’s voice finally floated down the hallway. Phil heard the quiet _swish_ of socked feet sliding across hardwood as Dan hurried out of his bedroom. Launching himself off the sofa, Phil took a few brave steps towards the doorway, eager to be all the closer to Dan. 

Dan rounded the corner into the lounge and — 

_Fuck_.

Phil’s heart _stopped_. Which, sure, it wasn’t unusual for Phil’s heart to beat faster, or his stomach to swoop, when he was around Dan, but he’d _never_ felt it like this before. _Never_ had Phil felt anything _this_ intense when he looked at Dan.

Dan was in tight black trousers, cut high enough that Phil could see a pale strip of ankle — a part of the body Phil hadn’t ever thought of as _sexy_ before, but he sure as shit did now. Dan had paired them with a black sweater, covered in tiny silver studs, and _jesus_ it was fitted. Not _so_ fitted that it was inappropriate, but also not _so_ loose that Phil couldn’t see _exactly_ what Dan’s body looked like. 

And _god dammit,_ Dan had a _perfect_ body. 

“I, uh, hi,” Dan muttered, running a hand through his perfectly-styled curls. A small, unsure smile graced his lips, his head tipped cutely to the side.

“Hi!” Phil called back, much too loudly for the room. He blushed at how eager he sounded, but managed a smile when Dan giggled at him. For a moment, Phil just kind of stood there, but Dan was like a magnet, pulling Phil in closer and closer, until his feet were automatically carrying him across the room.

Dan dropped his hands and took a few bold steps of his own towards Phil, the distance between them shrinking more and more until it was obsolete. Dan was full on grinning now, the blushing nervousness between them finally dissipating.

“ _Hi_ ,” Dan whispered, voice low and sexy, close enough now that his breath tickled Phil’s cheeks.

Phil leaned forward, enough so that his mouth was mere centimeters from Dan’s. “ _Hi_ ,” Phil breathed back before closing the distance between them and kissing Dan. 

Phil moved his lips against Dan’s in a slow rhythm, not necessarily trying to work Dan up _right now_ , but trying to foreshadow his intentions all the same.

Much to his annoyance, though, Dan pulled back rather suddenly, hardly bothering to peck Phil’s lips.

“Wait, is that — are those —” His eyes were wide as they flickered down to Phil’s hands. “Did you bring me _flowers_?” Dan’s mouth hung open, one hand making a halted attempt for the bouquet.

Dan sounded utterly _shocked_ , and Phil felt his cheeks growing hot as embarrassment washed over him. He should have _known_. Flowers were a lot — this wasn’t nineteen _fucking_ sixty-two and he wasn’t some teenager picking his date up for a school dance.

Phil turned his attention down to the flowers, trying to hide his shame. He felt small and childlike, and not in a good way. “I just thought — um, well…” Phil glanced up again, unable to come up with a good excuse. 

Uncomfortable and flustered, Phil expected to find Dan on the verge of laughter, or at the very least sporting a smirk. To Phil’s surprise, though, Dan didn’t look baffled or amused; he was _tearing up_.

“Give me,” Dan commanded, holding his hands out impatiently.

Phil awkwardly shoved the flowers into Dan’s hands, eyes wide as he stared at Dan’s face. Dan, however, wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were fixated on the flowers that were now in his own hands. 

“Roses.” Dan’s gaze flashed up to Phil for the briefest of seconds before staring down at the flowers again. “You brought me _white_ roses.” Dan’s eyes were glossy with unshed tears, but his lips were upturned and he looked like he might be on the brink of a smile. It was a confusing mixture of emotions, and Phil wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“Yeah, um…” Phil glanced down at the flowers self consciously. “It seemed like a… nice thing to do…”

“How did you know?” Dan brought the flowers up to his face and took a deep breath, inadvertently hiding behind them. 

Phil’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Know what?” 

“That white roses are my favorite,” Dan murmured, his face still completely hidden by the flowers.

“I didn’t,” Phil said simply. “I got them for, uh, other reasons.”

Dan brought the array of flowers down from his face — just far enough that Phil could see his entire expression again. “Why did you pick them, then?”

“I, um..” Phil scrambled for the right explanation. Dan’s features were cryptic, carefully neutral, and Phil only felt his apprehension double. “I asked the person at the flower shop what the best flowers were for a first date, and they suggested those.”

“Of course they did,” Dan chuckled, his lips finally turning up into a small smile. The flowers blocked Dan’s face again as he took another deep breath. “Did the florist tell you what they mean?”

 _Shit_. Phil hadn’t even _questioned_ the florist. They’d told him to buy white roses and he’d done it without complaint — he’d never thought to ask _why_ they were recommending him white roses. 

Phil shrugged, feeling like he was failing some sort of a test.

Dan lowered the flowers, a watery smile still on his face. “White roses represent new beginnings.” Dan stepped closer, the distance between him and Phil almost nonexistent now. Phil’s eyes darted down to Dan’s lips, entranced by the way they were slightly separated, the way his tongue pushed against his bottom teeth.

“And hope,” Dan continued, his voice even lower now. Slowly, Dan leaned forward, his lips just barely brushing against Phil’s. “Hope for the future,” Dan whispered against Phil’s parted lips.

Phil’s heart _pounded_ as the meaning of Dan’s words sunk in. It was perfect — literally everything he could have hoped to communicate with flowers. 

Unable to think of a better response, Phil closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Dan’s. Their lips moved together, languidly at first, but quickly growing in passion. 

Gratitude and happiness was radiating from Dan as he kissed Phil hard, insistently. Dan’s tongue flicked at Phil’s lips, gently caressing, before pushing into Phil’s mouth. Dan kissed back, matching Phil lick for lick and suck for suck; his free hand pulling at the hair at the nape of Phil’s neck, his hips colliding with Phil’s. Their tongues entwined, the feeling so fucking _hot_ that Phil had to resist the urge to knock the flowers out of Dan’s hands and push him against the wall right now.

Dan’s lips pulled back, not going far because Phil could still feel hot, fast breaths fanning across his face.

“The florist knew what they were doing, then,” Phil managed to say through thick and heavy breaths, eyes still closed as he savored the feeling of the kiss. 

“Yeah,” Dan heaved back. “They did.”

The soft _whack_ of Dan’s forehead crashing into his started Phil. His eyes flew open, only to find Dan already staring back at him.

“I should get these in water,” Dan whispered. His voice was low, husky, and it reminded Phil of how Dan had sounded in the shower yesterday. 

Phil just hummed in response. Dan was probably right, but Phil didn’t want to be the first one to pull away.

“I’ll be right back. There’s wine and glasses on the bar cart, be useful while I’m gone,” Dan teased, pressing a quick peck to Phil’s cheek before leaving.

Phil watched Dan walk away, unable to draw his eyes from the gentle sway of Dan’s arse in his sinfully tight trousers. It wasn’t until Dan rounded the corner and disappeared from sight that Phil shook himself out of his trance and followed Dan’s suggestion.

The bar cart was far better stocked than Phil had anticipated; it was chock-full of liquor, glasses, and mixers. Everything looked _nice_ , too. The liquor was all top shelf — Grey Goose, Tanqueray, Patrón… If that was anything to go by, the wine was probably pricey as well. 

Phil didn’t know enough about specific vineyards to know which bottles were the nicest, so Phil just randomly selected a bottle of wine and prayed he hadn’t accidentally picked a hundred pound bottle or something.

Dan’s wine opener was fancy. _Too_ fancy. It had batteries and a motor and a freaking _on and off_ switch. 

Hoping for the best, Phil slid the opener over the bottle and switched it on. The contraption whirred loudly and vibrated so intensely in Phil’s hands that he nearly dropped it, but all of the commotion was followed by a faint _pop_ as the opener pulled out the cork.

Feeling more triumphant than he should, given that it was just a bloody _wine opener_ , Phil picked out two of the matching oversized wine glasses — well, _goblets_ , more like.

“Oh good, you figured out how to work the wine opener,” Dan said as he came back into the lounge.

“It’s a bit odd,” Phil commented as politely as he could, focusing on pouring their wine. It wasn't the nicest, but it was way better than saying what he _really_ thought of it — that it was fucking _weird_.

“It’s completely ridiculous,” Dan laughed. He was hovering so close that Phil could feel the heat radiating off of him, warming Phil’s body and heart. “Isabella got it for me for Christmas and I didn’t have wine for a week because I couldn’t figure it out. I still fuck it up half the time.”

Phil ignored the slight pang of distaste at the mention of Isabella, and chose to focus on the hilarity of the fact that Dan had this weird ass wine opener that he could barely manage to work. “You could just buy a new one, you know.”

“Yeah,” Dan agreed as he set the flowers down on the bar cart. “I just never remember while I’m at the store, ya know?”

Phil couldn’t resist playfully poking Dan in his side. “Amazon, Dan. _Amazon_ ,” he teased, his head dipping down to shower Dan’s cheeks, his neck, his shoulder, in kisses.

“Fuck, you’re right.” Dan chuckled, just barely glancing up at Phil, looking a little chagrined. “I buy everything else online, why haven’t I drunk bought that?”

Shaking his head, Dan set about arranging the flowers, making sure they were evenly dispersed. The flowers were bursting out of a vase that looked much too small for the size of the bouquet. Phil raised an eyebrow, confused why Dan had picked _that_ vase.

“Bit of a small vase, Dan,” Phil noted, puzzled.

“It’s all I had,” Dan answered. “I normally just get a few flowers at a time, and well, like I said, no one’s exactly _bought_ me any before.”

It didn’t sound like a complaint, but it broke Phil’s heart all the same. Dan deserved to be treated well — downright _spoiled_ even — and from the way he hadn’t stopped fidgeting with the flowers, it was clear that Dan _loved_ getting flowers. 

Hell, Phil would bring Dan flowers every single day if they made him this happy. And next time, he’d make sure to buy a proper sized vase, too. 

The intense concentration paired with the small smile on Dan’s face was absolutely adorable, but Phil was having trouble looking anywhere but Dan’s hands as he arranged the delicate flowers. His fingers were long and gentle and —

Oh _fuck_.

 _Silver_.

Every single nail of Dan’s hands was immaculately painted a soft matte _silver_. 

Phil’s jaw _dropped_ , all coherent thought wiped from his mind. “Did you —” Phil cut himself off, his hand flying out to grasp Dan’s, bringing it up to his face to inspect. Up close, Phil could see how perfectly trimmed, how neat, how smooth Dan’s nails were. “You painted your nails,” Phil muttered dumbly.

Long painted nails curled around Phil’s hand, and suddenly Phil was inspecting Dan’s knuckles instead. “Um, yeah,” Dan said, his voice coming out shaky.

Tearing his eyes away from Dan’s hand, Phil forced his eyes to focus on his face instead. “Darcy?” Phil asked, barely able to get the words out because he was still in such _awe_. 

“Not quite,” Dan mumbled. Shy eyes tore away from Phil’s, gazing down at their feet instead. Dan ripped his hand from Phil’s grasp, immediately tucking it to his side and pulling his sweater sleeves over both fists. “Louise and I kind of knocked off work early and got manicures.”

Dan’s eyes flickered up to look at Phil, the same cautious glint sparkling. “Do you hate them?” Dan asked in the smallest voice Phil had ever heard him use.

Phil finally made sense of the expression on Dan’s face. He was _scared_. 

“God no,” Phil murmured incredulously, grabbing Dan’s face between his hands and leaning in close. “It’s fucking _hot_ ,” he muttered, just before slamming his lips against Dan’s. Desperate for more of Dan, needing to prove to Dan that he _loved_ the nails, Phil slid his hands back to tug at Dan’s hair and let his tongue lick at Dan’s lips. 

Dan didn’t open his mouth, though. Instead, he pulled back and looked up at Phil through dark, gorgeous eyelashes. A slow smile was starting to grow on Dan’s face. “It is?” he asked, a timid tremble giving away his disbelief.

“Definitely,” Phil mumbled in what he hoped was an encouraging tone. Before Dan could say anything else, Phil crashed their lips together again, this time prying Dan’s mouth open with his tongue. It wasn’t enough though, Phil wanted to feel Dan _everywhere_. Phil wrapped his arms around Dan’s waist, pulling him closer until their chests, their hips, their thighs, were all pressed hotly together. Without breaking their kiss, Phil spun them around and guided Dan backwards, only stopping when the backs of Dan’s knees hit the sofa.

Phil was determined to show Dan _exactly_ how hot he thought the painted nails — and _everything_ else about him — were.

Dan fell backwards onto the sofa, his hands latching onto Phil’s hips at the last second and pulling Phil down with him. Catching himself on one arm, Phil just barely hovered above Dan, their chests pressed together, their legs entwined.

With his free hand, Phil caught Dan’s and brought it up to his face so he could get a proper look at it. The pads of Dan’s fingers were calloused from playing the guitar, but his nails were longer than average and meticulously kept. The silver polish was flawless, and it was the perfect addition to Dan’s edgy but soft aesthetic.

“God—” Phil kissed Dan’s thumb. “This—” Phil kissed the next finger. “Is so—” _Kiss_. “Fucking—” _Kiss_. “Hot.” _Kiss._

Beneath him, Dan giggled — a high pitched, carefree _giggle_. It was such a stark contrast to the apprehension that had radiated from Dan just a moment ago, and this, _this_ was how Phil always wanted to make Dan feel.

Dan deserved to feel completely comfortable expressing himself however he wanted, and Phil wanted to make sure Dan realized that Phil would support him completely. From Dan’s fear, though, Phil worried that his past partners might not have always had the same attitude.

Phil laced their fingers together and rested their hands above Dan’s head. Ducking his head down, Phil nipped Dan’s exposed collarbone, mumbling more encouragements as he kissed his way up Dan’s neck. “You — should do it — more often.” 

“I didn’t think you’d be _this_ into the nails,” Dan quipped, his voice already breathy from arousal.

Phil hadn’t thought he would be either, but now that he was seeing it, now that there was this physical proof of Dan’s confidence and his hatred of gender roles…

Yeah, Phil was into it.

Proving just _how_ into it he was, Phil ground his hips down into Dan’s, rubbing his hard cock against Dan’s.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dan gasped. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Dan’s unrestrained hand slid up Phil’s back, cupping hotly around the back of Phil’s neck and redirecting his head back up. Phil went willingly, abandoning Dan’s neck in favor of his mouth.

Their lips moved together, their pace fast and heated. Muted whimpers were already beginning to tumble from Dan’s mouth, the noises swallowed by Phil’s lips. Their bodies were pressed together from head to toe, but Phil still felt an insatiable need to be _closer_. Chasing the friction, the heat, of Dan, Phil thrusted his hips down again, this time drawing a proper _loud_ keen from Dan.

“ _Phil_ ,” Dan moaned without pulling away from their kiss, his near-shout disappearing into Phil’s mouth. His hand tore away from Phil’s, flying down and landing on Phil’s arse. Every single finger of Dan’s hand seemed to leave a scalding imprint, and Phil couldn’t resist pushing his bum back into the touch. Dan’s fingers dug in, the pressure just strong enough to make Phil whine.

Hand now free, Phil tangled his fingers into Dan’s hair, and used it as leverage to tip Dan’s head back again. The long expanse of Dan’s neck was still littered with half-faded marks from the last time Phil had ravished him, and Phil knew he should probably be more careful this time — if for no other reason than that they were going to a fancy restaurant in an hour.

There was something so erotic, though, about seeing the marks he had left on Dan’s skin. Phil couldn’t resist licking a long strip up Dan’s neck and nibbling at Dan’s collarbones. The marks might not be acceptable, but they looked so _beautiful_ against Dan’s skin that Phil was struggling to not add to the painting. 

Warm hands slipped under Phil’s jumper and traced long, white hot lines up and down his chest, his back, his stomach. The tingling heat spurred Phil on, making him want to kiss Dan harder and faster.

Dan’s hand clutched around the hem of Phil’s shirt, yanking harshly and causing the material to catch at Phil’s throat. “Off,” Dan demanded breathily.

Arousal shot down Phil’s spine, Dan’s desperate order going straight to Phil’s cock. Eagerly, Phil pushed himself up just enough to let Dan tug the sweater off him and wrangle it free from his hands. The sweater was blindly tossed somewhere over their heads, the fabric barely dropping from Dan’s hands before he was pulling Phil back down and guiding Phil’s lips to his.

Kissing Dan felt like walking through fire, but in the best possible way; Phil’s entire body was so, _so_ sensitive and he could feel each and every place they touched. Phil channeled the heat into their kissing, moving his lips insistently against Dan’s.

Dan kissed back hard, his tongue fighting Phil’s for dominance. Maybe Phil relented, or maybe Dan won, but suddenly Dan’s tongue was slipping between Phil’s teeth and caressing the roof of his mouth.

“ _Mmmm,_ ” Phil moaned loudly — not as loud as Dan tended to be, but _loud_. 

Dan’s hips bucked up, causing Phil’s aching cock to grind into Dan’s hip. On Phil’s lower back, Dan’s nails were digging in so deliciously deep that they were surely leaving half-crescent moons behind, marks that Phil hoped were deep enough to stay for awhile — having physical proof of Dan on his body would be almost too much for Phil to handle, in the best of ways. Dan’s other hand was tangled in Phil’s hair, his thumb stroking the shorter hairs on the side of Phil’s head.

It was so, _so_ much, and yet somehow, not quite enough.

Suddenly and without warning, Dan tore his mouth off from Phil’s, wrenching away from their kiss. “Fuck. Up, up. Let me up.” Dan’s words came out in fast, urgent pants. His words were rushed but he was smiling; he didn’t _look_ upset, but Phil’s heart was pounding and his mind was racing and he couldn’t make sense of anything that was happening.

Worried — bordering on distressed, really — Phil jumped back off of Dan, giving him as much as much space as he needed. “Is everything okay?” 

Phil scanned Dan’s face wildly, looking for any clues as to what the _hell_ had happened.

Blinking rapidly, Dan arched his hips up, his hand disappearing under his bum. “I just need to…” Dan started, his sentence trailing off as he got distracted by his efforts to dig something out of the back pocket of his trousers.

It wasn’t until the object was free and secretively held in front of Dan’s face that Phil realized what it was: his lyric notebook.

“Two seconds,” Dan muttered as he scribbled furiously. The back of the notebook was steadfastly facing Phil, Dan’s right hand covering the brim of it so Phil couldn’t see what he was writing.

Phil watched on in confusion as Dan wrote, and crossed something out, and wrote again, his hands seemingly flying all over the page.

For some reason, Dan wasn’t acting like this interruption was at all weird — in fact he was downright _nonchalant_. Phil, on the other hand, couldn’t manage to wrap his head around what the _hell_ was happening.

“Okay, I’m good now.” Dan chucked the book to the coffee table, where it fell opened to the page he was working on. 

“What the hell was that about?” Phil asked incredulously, his eyes flicking to the notebook and back to Dan.

“Sorry, mate.” Dan shrugged with a cheeky smile. His voice was low and husky and going straight to Phil’s cock — it should really be illegal to sound _that_ attractive. “You’re the one that decided it was a good idea to date a musician. Now come back here.” 

Settling back into the sofa, Dan gazed up sexily, his arms outstretched as he made grabby hands in Phil’s direction.

Phil was _incredibly_ tempted to lean over and peek at what he’d written — in all the months he’d known Dan, the notebook had never just been _laid open_ in front of him before. Dan usually guarded its pages with his _life_. But at the same time, the heat of their snogging hadn’t left Phil’s body. His cock was straining against his trousers, the zipper digging in uncomfortably, and Phil was desperate to do something about it.

For now at least, Phil’s libido won. The mysteriously-timed writing in the notebook could wait until later. At least until a time when Phil wasn’t so turned on that he might come in his pants like he was fourteen again.

“You’re a nerd,” Phil grumbled lowly, even as he crawled back over Dan. Their chests pressed together again, and the studs on Dan’s sweater uncomfortably dug into Phil’s bare skin. How Phil hadn’t noticed it earlier was beyond him, but now that he had, he just wanted the sweater _off_.

Well, maybe he wanted it off for different reasons, too.

Phil pushed himself off just as quickly as he’d laid down, ignoring Dan’s high-pitched, disgruntled whine. “Sit up a sec,” Phil demanded, his hands tugging on the hem of Dan’s sweater as he tried to communicate what he wanted — _needed_. 

Realizing Phil’s intention, Dan pulled himself up, his arms looped around Phil’s neck. Phil slid the sweater up, his eyes drawn to the slow reveal of Dan’s stomach, his chest, his nipples. The sweater pushed higher, and Dan’s hands rose up for the smallest of seconds, just long enough for Phil to pull the sweater up and over his head.

Reverently, Phil ran his hands down the newly exposed skin, his fingers sweeping over Dan’s nipples and drifting all the way to the hem of Dan’s trousers.

“Gorgeous,” Phil muttered as he ducked down again, his lips grazing Dan’s neck as they tumbled back to the sofa together.

Dan was too beautiful, and Phil felt like he had a hard time focusing his attention to just one spot. His mouth fluttered from point to point, sucking on the pulse of Dan’s neck, tongue dipping into his belly button, teeth grazing his nipple.

Hushed whines and staccatoed breaths were unabashedly tumbling from Dan’s mouth, his hands finding purchase in Phil’s hair and tugging slightly. It wasn’t until Phil nibbled on Dan’s earlobe, though, that Dan seemed to _snap_.

“Fuck me,” Dan murmured hoarsely. His hips bucked up, colliding with Phil’s and grazing their cocks together, the abrupt friction sending bolts of pleasure through Phil. 

“Please fuck me,” Dan begged again, his voice going high and gravelly and so, _so_ intoxicating. It took every fiber of Phil’s being to not rip Dan’s pants off and fuck him into the sofa right then.

“ _Jesus_.” Phil’s head fell into the crook of Dan’s shoulder and he took several deep, shuddering breaths as he tried to maintain just a _fraction_ of his composure. 

The way Dan’s sharp nails were scratching down his back, the way Dan’s hips were grinding up into his own, the way Dan’s breaths were coming out in raspy pants… it was all making it nearly impossible to resist his pleas.

Phil’s hips ground down against his will, drawing a long moan of _Philllllll_ from Dan’s lips. 

“Hang on, hang on, hang on,” Phil gasped. Needing a little space so that he could think clearly, Phil pinned Dan’s hips down to the sofa with his hands, and lifted his own hips up so they were out of Dan’s reach. Hands still holding Dan in place, Phil twisted so that he could see the clock on Dan’s tv.

 _Seven_.

They had to leave in half an hour, give or take a few minutes. That wasn’t _nearly_ long enough, not if their first time together was going to be anything other than a rushed and heated quickie. 

“Dinner soon,” Phil grunted, his head falling to Dan’s bare chest.

“Fuck dinner,” Dan protested gruffly. “Fuck me instead.” 

“Not right now, I don’t —” Phil’s protests were cut off by Dan breaking free of his grip and grinding their hips together again. Their lengths rubbed together distractingly, nearly derailing Phil’s thoughts. “I don’t want our first time to be rushed, okay?”

“We can skip dinner,” Dan grunted through clenched teeth.

God, sleeping with Dan really did sound phenomenal — probably better than anything any restaurant had to offer. For a moment, for just a fleeting moment, Phil let himself consider it. Let himself fantasize about standing up their reservation and fucking Dan right here and now.

That’s not what tonight was about though. Phil had set out to make tonight something _special_ , hopefully something _unique_. And blowing off dinner in favor of sex probably wasn’t either of those. 

Phil buried his head back in Dan’s shoulder, raspy breaths blowing across Dan’s skin. “We’re not skipping dinner so I can fuck you, Dan.”

“Then let’s be late.”

It was tempting. _Really_ tempting. But Phil knew that as soon as he got inside Dan, as soon as they finally got to _be_ _together_ in that way, Phil wouldn’t be able to force them to put their clothing back on and go out for a nice dinner. And he _really_ wanted to take Dan out on a nice date tonight.

“A different night,” Phil promised, swallowing as much of his desire as he could, trying his best to just sound sweet.

“But Phil, I’m _horny_ ,” Dan whined loudly, his unencumbered hips finding a slow, powerful rhythm against Phil’s.

 _That_ Phil could help with. There were other options — it wasn’t like it was sex or nothing. Phil could still make use of this time and give Dan _something_.

~*~*~* 

“Shhh, baby,” Phil cooed. His hands grabbed Dan’s hips again, this time sliding around to thumb at the button of Dan’s trousers. “I’ll still take care of you.”

“F-fine,” Dan stuttered petulantly, but giving into Phil all the same.

Phil flicked the button through the hole of Dan’s trousers, and immediately tugged them down over the curve of Dan’s arse. They didn’t have _that_ much time, and Phil still wanted to make this _good_. The tight black material of Dan’s pants was stretched thin across his hard cock, and Phil’s mouth watered at the sight. 

“Get on with it, you spo— _ahhh_ ,” Dan’s teasing tone turned into a low whine when Phil licked a long, hot stripe up Dan’s clothed bulge. 

“Fine, you big baby,” Phil griped, his hands roughly pulling Dan’s pants down and freeing his cock, blowing lightly on it as it was finally exposed.

“ _Ahhh_ ,” Dan moaned, his hand threading through Phil’s hair and holding him in place. Phil slowly dragged his tongue from Dan’s base to his tip, holding Dan’s gaze the entire time. Above him, Dan was reduced to broken whimpers and half-aborted thrusts.

“What do you want, baby?” Phil murmured, pulling back. His lips were just centimeters from the flushed red head of Dan’s cock, and Phil could sense Dan restraining himself from bucking up into Phil’s mouth again.

“Whatever’s fine,” Dan panted. “I just want you.”

Phil pressed a small, teasing kiss to Dan’s slit before pushing himself up. “Where’s your lube?”

“ _Fuck_.” Dan’s head tilted back, a quiet groan coming from low in his throat. “Bedside table.”

“Should’ve guessed,” Phil chuckled smugly. Phil collected Dan’s hands and pinned them to the armrest above his head. “Fuck you look good like this.”

“Mmm, I do, do I?” Dan bit his lip and stared up at Phil, looking like he _definitely_ knew the answer to that question. 

“Shut up,” Phil mumbled, his grip tightening on Dan’s hands. “I don’t want you getting started without me. Keep your hands up here while I’m gone, okay?” Phil licked at Dan’s earlobe, sucking it into his mouth and nibbling lightly.

“Oh yeah, and why should I?” Dan challenged with an attempt at a cheeky smile. The effect was weakened, though, by the small thrusts of his hips and the subdued mewl that followed when Phil kissed his neck. 

“Why should you?” Phil repeated, leaning closer to Dan’s ear, careful to not let his crotch rub against Dan’s. “Maybe I’ll give you a reward if you’re a good boy, Daniel.”

“Fuck, okay,” Dan readily agreed, visibly _shivering_ under Phil. 

“So you’ll be good, then?” Phil smirked. He trailed his fingers fingers down Dan’s side, watching the way he squirmed from the light tickles, but didn’t move his hands. 

“Yes, yes.” Dan’s hands clasped together around his curly locks, the last bit of resistance melting away. “Go. Please. Hurry.”

Phil fixed Dan with a final firm look before crawling off the sofa and hurrying down to Dan’s room, making a beeline straight for Dan’s bedside table. There were three drawers, and Phil tore open the middle one on instinct. He figured if Dan was anything like himself, he’d want it more convenient than the bottom drawer, but a bit less conspicuous than the top.

Sure enough, there was an open box of condoms, a half used bottle of lube, and — 

_Oh_.

A long velvet black bag.

Even thoughts of Dan desperately waiting on the lounge sofa or Dan somehow catching him snooping, couldn’t curb Phil’s curiosity. There were very few objects that would make sense to store in velvet bags next to lube — and whatever it was, Phil was itching to know. Before he could properly proces his actions, Phil’s fingers were reaching out and picking up the bag.

Without even opening it, Phil already knew what it was. The object inside felt long and hard, cylindrical, with light grooves and a slight curve. It was both longer and thicker than Phil had anticipated — even given the bag’s size.

Still, Phil had to _see_. 

Just a peek wouldn’t hurt, right?

Phil undid the laces and pried open the bag, glancing inside. Just as he’d expected, there was a dildo. It was a bit less _realistic_ than Phil had anticipated, just a sleek, jet black, vibrator, but... 

_Fuck_.

Phil _really_ wanted to see Dan using that at some point.

Now wasn’t the moment though. Dropping the bag back in the drawer, not bothering to tie it closed again, Phil grabbed the lube and rushed back to the living room.

Dan was right where Phil had left him — hands clasped over his head, fingers tugging at his hair, and cock hard against his stomach.

Phil waited a moment, taking in the sight of _Dan_. His footsteps must have made noise, because Dan’s head twisted backwards, his eyes silently pleading with Phil to _come_.

Deliberately taking his time, Phil crossed the room, coming to hover by Dan’s side. “Good boy,” Phil murmured, rubbing a loving hand through the curls that had fallen onto Dan’s forehead. “Let’s get your trousers off, yeah?”

Phil tugged on Dan’s trousers, taking his pants with them. The trousers were so tight that Phil might normally have insisted Dan take them off himself, but that’s not what tonight was supposed to be about. Determined to do _everything_ for Dan, Phil worked the clothing down Dan’s legs, pulling them off his feet one at a time. 

Standing at the end of the sofa, Phil raked his eyes up and down Dan’s naked form — the boy in front of him was _absurdly_ attractive, and _fuck_ he kind of wanted a picture of Dan like this. Sprawled out, needy, naked.

Nudging Dan’s legs apart, Phil crawled back on the sofa, his chest pressing against Dan’s again, their hips inadvertently rubbing together.

Dan whined at the small amount of friction, and his hips made an aborted thrust upwards. Phil ground down, giving them both a taste of the friction that they were craving.

“I’d ask if it’s been a long time since you’ve done anything like this,” Phil whispered into Dan’s ear, his lips trailing down Dan’s neck, his chest, his stomach. Phil rested his chin on Dan’s navel, Dan’s cock pressing along the length of his throat, and stared up at him. “But I couldn’t help seeing what was in the drawer with the lube.”

Phil smugly watched as a dark red blush spread throughout Dan, reaching all the way from his ears to his chest. Dan’s hands flew from their position above his head to cover his face, an embarrassed, high pitched whine coming from behind them.

“I hate you,” Dan grumbled.

“Mmmm,” Phil hummed. The vibrations of Phil’s throat against Dan’s cock caused him to whine again. “I bet I can change that.”

Without waiting for a response from Dan, Phil popped open the lube — the noise alone drawing a breathy whine from Dan — and poured a generous amount on his hand, coating his fingers thoroughly. Phil wrapped his slick hand around Dan’s cock and gave it one loose wank. 

“Fuck, fuck Phil.” Dan’s back arched, hips canting into Phil’s grasp. “More, _please_.”

Phil pulled his hands away entirely, tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he stared down at Dan. He half expected Dan to grasp his own cock, for Dan to start stroking himself, but his hands had returned back to where Phil had put them earlier.

Almost _exactly_ where Phil had made Dan put them — Dan was so pliant, so obedient that Phil had to wonder if Dan liked being told what to do in bed. He was such a loud, assertive person normally that it was hard to imagine, but _fuck_ that was definitely something worth exploring at some point.

“You’re so good for me, Dan,” Phil praised as he pushed one of Dan’s knees up to his chest.

Dan was beautiful beneath him, and Phil couldn’t resist leaning further back to fully take him in — to look at the way Dan was heated and desperate, the way Dan’s cock twitched and begged for attention, the way Dan’s tight pink hole was clenched around nothing.

Teasing Dan, pushing him to see how much Phil could make him beg, sounded _hot_ , but they didn’t have the time for that right now — and that was _probably_ something they should talk about first. So instead, Phil trailed one lube-coated finger all the way from Dan’s slit, down his cock, across his perineum, stopping just before his hole.

“Is this what you want baby?” Phil asked, lightly massaging around Dan’s hole, never quite dipping in.

“ _Yes_ ,” Dan whined loudly, his hips grinding down into the firm pressure of Phil’s hand.

Taking mercy on Dan, Phil slipped his finger passed Dan’s rim, stopping at the first knuckle. Phil’s eyes were fixated on the way Dan’s body was trying to suck him in, the way Dan’s hips were twitching like they wanted to grind down on Phil’s hand. The slight breach was accompanied by the loudest, longest keen that Phil had heard from Dan yet — a sound that had Phil reaching for his own cock with his free hand.

Phil massaged his hard bulge, just enough to relieve a bit of the tension, and let out a quiet gasp of his own. 

“Keep going,” Dan urged, although it came out as barely more than a broken moan.

Just as slowly as before, Phil pushed his finger in further, watching Dan’s face closely. Dan’s lower lip was quivering, and his eyes were clamped shut. A long, shuddering breath fell past Dan’s lips as Phil pushed his finger all the way in. The tight heat of Dan’s hole made Phil’s cock ache, made him _almost_ reconsider their dinner reservations. 

Stealing himself, Phil leaned down and pressed a kiss to the inside of Dan’s thigh. “You okay, baby?”

Dan responded by thrusting his hips downward, forcing Phil’s finger deeper into his arse. “ _Move_ ,” Dan whined, his voice downright _pleading_.

That was enough permission for Phil. He drew his hand back, and pushed forward again, setting a slow and deep pace as he started fucking into Dan with his finger.

It only took a few thrusts for Dan to become a complete panting mess beneath Phil, his body writhing and his back arching. The sight was breathtaking, almost too gorgeous to possibly be real. 

With no other way to show his appreciation for Dan’s beauty, Phil kissed the inside of Dan’s knee. He slowly worked his way up Dan’s thigh, his kisses turing into harsh biting and rough sucking the closer to Dan’s cock he got. Phil watched in awe as the skin of Dan’s thigh turned purple from his efforts, little marks in the shape of Phil’s mouth trailing up his leg.

“M-more,” Dan stuttered. “I n-need m-more.”

On the next thrust, Phil added a second finger, pushing slowly into Dan and letting him adjust to the extra stretch. Trying to distract Dan from any discomfort, Phil turned his attention to Dan’s other leg, adorning it in matching purple marks. After so many months of wanting Dan, lusting after him, loving him from afar, it felt so _fucking good_ to claim Dan as his own. 

Unlike the hickeys on Dan’s neck, no one could see these, no one but the two of them would know. And _fuck_ it was attractive to see Dan all marked up because of him. Phil crooked his fingers on the next thrust, searching, rubbing, until —

“ _There_!” Dan gasped, his hips bucking down onto Phil’s fingers. “God, you feel — _mmmm_ — so much better than the v-vibrator,” Dan stuttered, voice trembling with arousal.

“Better than a vibrator?” Phil giggled, massaging Dan’s prostate harder. “Sounds like you don’t hate me anymore, then.”

“S-shut up,” Dan groaned. One of Dan’s hands flew from its perch above his head and grasped tightly to Phil’s hair. Using his grip on Phil’s hair, Dan guided Phil’s mouth back to his inner thigh. “B-biting good.”

 _Jesus,_ not only was Dan maybe a little submissive in bed, but he also appeared to have a bit of a pain kink — knowledge that went straight to Phil’s cock. Phil also couldn’t help but feel smug that’d he’d successfully reduced Dan to caveman speak with just his fingers and some simple biting.

“Fire bad, tree pretty,” Phil couldn’t help but tease quietly.

“Wh-what?” Dan stuttered, too incoherent to possibly make sense of Phil’s reference.

“Nevermind.” Phil returned his attention to Dan’s thighs, nibbling a bit more forcefully, licking and sucking to soothe the pain. 

“Ph- _Phil_ ,” Dan moaned, his muscles tensing under Phil’s touch. “Fu-fuck, I — cl- _close_.”

Phil’s gaze shifted up, and he purposefully rubbed Dan’s prostate with the tips of his fingers, the ministrations causing Dan to sputter out more jumbled words. Phil’s hand was just sliding towards Dan’s cock when Dan’s babbling turned into a loud whine, and Dan _came._

_Untouched._

Phil watched as Dan’s eyes squeezed shut, his cock twitched, his muscles quivered. Dan was clenching around Phil’s fingers, his hips digging downwards. Cum splattered up Dan’s chest in fast, hot spurts, his face slowly relaxing into pure _bliss_. Everything about watching Dan come on his fingers was intoxicating, and Phil was in awe that he’d been able to make Dan come _untouched._

Dan’s breaths slowed, his limbs growing heavier as he sunk into the sofa, his grip on Phil’s hair loosening. Phil slowly slipped his fingers from Dan, wiping the excess lube on the blanket draped across the back. Hopefully it wasn’t too expensive and was washable. 

~*~*~* 

Leaning back down, Phil sweetly kissed one of the many marks on Dan’s thigh, his clean hand rubbing light circles into Dan’s hip.

“Fuck,” Dan panted after almost a full minute. “That was…”

“Hot,” Phil supplied with a smirk at the same time that Dan embarrassedly said, “Fast.”

Phil giggled, pressing a final, lingering kiss to Dan’s hip, the muscle shaking from overstimulation. Dan’s eyes were closed, his body splayed out openly, his chest rising and falling in dramatic puffs. 

“Give me a sec and I’ll blow you,” Dan muttered as he tried to catch his breath.

Phil glanced at the clock, and saw they really should be leaving within in the next ten minutes if they had any hopes of making their reservation on time. “Next time, we should really get you cleaned up and dressed again so we can make dinner.”

Eyes fluttering open, Dan looked down at Phil. “But I didn’t do anything for you,” he mumbled.

“Trust me, Dan. You did plenty for me,” Phil reassured him, laughter lacing his voice. “I like watching you come. I’ve got wanking material for the next decade at _least_.” 

Dan bashfully hid his face in his hands again, his inhibitions suddenly returning. Pushing himself up to hover above Dan, Phil pulled Dan’s hands away from his face. “Don’t hide, you’re too pretty.” Solidifying his point, Phil pressed a lintering, tender kiss to Dan’s forehead before clambering off the sofa. “Stay here, I’ll grab you a wet washcloth.”

The walk to the bathroom was painful. Phil’s erection was desperate for attention, and Phil did his best to will it away. They didn’t have time to do anything else right now — and besides, Phil kind of wanted tonight to just be about spoiling Dan, anyway.

The main guest loo was closer than the one in Dan’s bedroom, so Phil ducked in there. Phil turned the tap on, preparing to wash his hands when he realized that they smelled faintly of… was that _cherry?_

Phil made a mental note to look at Dan’s bottle of lube at some point to see if Dan had _flavored_ lube — and tease him about it, if so — and washed his hands. The selection of toiletries under the cabinet was sparse, really nothing more than just a few extra loo rolls and some random clutter. Phil ended up settling for the hand towel that was hanging on the wall hook, once again hoping it wasn’t special. Dunking part of the towel under the water, Phil got it just wet enough to be able to wipe Dan clean, leaving the other half dry, ready to wipe away any remaining moisture from Dan’s skin.

Back in the lounge, Dan was in the same boneless state that Phil had left him in. Phil quietly made his way over to the sofa, not wanting to shake Dan out of his post-orgasm haze any more roughly than necessary.

“Here babe,” Phil whispered, his voice startling Dan. Warm brown eyes peered up at him, a calm smile lighting up Dan’s face. “Let me clean you up.” 

With more care than was strictly necessary, Phil swiped the wet half of the towel across Dan’s chest, down his stomach, and through the cleft of his ass. Dan was pliant and relaxed, his eyes falling shut again as he let Phil push and pull his limbs as needed. It took a few wipes, but Phil managed to clean all of the cum and lube off of Dan. Not wanting Dan to soak his shirt or pants, Phil switched the towel around, and dried Dan off.

“Thanks, Philly,” Dan murmured, his eyes fluttering open and his hand catching Phil’s. Movements heavy and sluggish, Dan brought Phil’s inner wrist to his mouth. Dan kissed Phil’s arm, unhurriedly making his way from Phil’s hand up to his elbow. The kisses were feather-light, so much so that Phil squirmed and giggled. “You’re so ticklish,” Dan said through his kisses.

“I know, it’s kind of annoying.”

“Nonsense. I think it’s amazing,” Dan countered.

“They do call me AmazingPhil,” Phil joked. Dan rolled his eyes, smiling up at Phil all the same.

Twisting his hand in Dan’s arm, Phil helped Dan off the sofa, catching him when Dan’s knees almost immediately gave out. “That good, huh?” Phil teased.

“It was and you know it, you smug bastard,” Dan mumbled into Phil’s neck.

“You’re cute,” Phil chuckled, righting Dan and pausing to ensure that he was steady on his feet before letting go. When Phil was confident Dan wouldn’t collapse — or sit back down — Phil collected Dan’s clothing from where it was strewn about the lounge floor, and chucked it onto the sofa. “Alright, arms up baby.”

Still far more docile than normal, Dan raised his arms and Phil slipped the jumper over his head, guiding his arms through it one hole at a time. Even in his lethargic state, Dan could probably dress himself, but Phil welcomed the excuse to be close to him, to pamper him. “I like this jumper a lot, by the way,” Phil said as he tugged it down Dan’s torso, remembering just how perfectly fitted it was.

“Thanks.” Dan’s mouth quirked up into a smile. “The woman at the Versace store thought it was weird that I was buying a sweater from the women’s section.”

There it was again — Dan’s open mindedness, his refusal to play by society’s stupid rules. God, Dan was going to be the death of Phil, he was certain. 

“Gender roles are the worst kind of bread,” Phil lamented with a shake of his head. 

Dan’s jaw dropped dramatically, his eyes growing playfully wide. “You stole my line, Lester!” Dan pouted indignantly. 

Phil grabbed Dan’s pants off the sofa, bending over to help Dan step into the black Calvin Klein briefs. “Too bad, Howell. It’s a good line.”

Above him, Dan giggled. Phil pulled Dan’s pants up all the way, pressing a quick kiss to Dan’s lips when he was stood up again. “I think you’re going to have to manage your own trousers. They look a bit too tight for me to do for you.”

“Ugh you’re the worst,” Dan complained, his voice filled with nothing but fondness. Theatrically, Dan snatched his trousers off the sofa, and shook them out with an exaggerated sigh. “What a useless fucking boyfriend,” Dan added under his breath, just loud enough for Phil to hear.

It took a moment for Dan’s grumbling to register, but when it did, the word _boyfriend_ slammed into Phil, knocking the air right out of his chest.

Phil’s eyes snapped to Dan’s face, just as Dan looked up — there was a look of panicked horror on Dan’s face as he registered what he’d said. Phil’s heart was _pounding_ at Dan’s words, his stomach flipping over.

Needing to qualm Dan’s fears — and express his happiness — Phil swooped forward, his hands grabbing Dan’s cheeks and pulling him in for a messy kiss. They were both _beaming_ , unable to properly kiss, but neither of them seemed to care. The trousers fell to the floor as Dan reached out to clutch Phil’s waist, pulling him _closer, closer, closer_. When the need for air became urgent, Phil pulled back, his smile so wide it almost hurt. Dan was grinning back, his dimples _deep_ , his eyes crinkled around the corners. 

Phil cocked an eyebrow, attempting to look skeptical despite his overwhelming giddiness. “Bad boyfriend, huh?” Phil teased. “I didn’t realize bad boyfriends fingered their partners, got them off, and asked for nothing in return before taking them out to a fancy dinner.”

“It’s all subjective I guess.” Dan shrugged, his face looking like he was trying to force it into a neutral expression. It wasn’t working — not by a longshot. “Gotta earn your keep and whatnot.” The indifference of his words was ruined by a small giggle at the end, the elated smile breaking back through his false stoicism.

“Fine, I’ll attempt it,” Phil grumbled and snagged Dan’s trousers off the sofa. “No promises I don’t send us both tumbling to the floor, though.”

Dan snatched them from Phil’s hands, starting to pull them on himself. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m just being whiny. Go find your shirt so we can get out of here.” 

Phil’s shirt was carelessly thrown over the side of the sofa, crumpled in a pile. After shaking it out to get rid of some of the wrinkles, Phil pulled it over his head. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the full glasses of wine, the open bottle of lube on the coffee table, the cum-covered towel on the sofa... “Should we clean up before we go?”

Dan looked around quickly as he ruffled his hair, probably trying to make it look less like _sex hair_ — although, really, he was just kind of making it worse. “Nah, I’ll deal with it when I get home. Let’s just grab our coats and go.” 

The mess of the lounge was partially Phil’s fault, and he felt bad for not helping Dan clean it up, but they really did need to be leaving if they were going to walk to the restaurant and still be on time. So instead of dealing with the mess, they both shrugged on their coats and slipped on their shoes. 

“Let’s go.” Dan led them into the foyer, and pressed the call button for the lift. Phil, being a _useful_ _boyfriend_ , flicked the hall lights off, suddenly plunging them into darkness. “Oh god, that’s dark!” Dan squealed.

“Scared, Daniel?” Phil taunted, sneaking up behind Dan and wrapping his arms around Dan’s waist and pulling him in close.

“N-no!” Dan’s voice came out in a high squeak.

“Here, let me make it better,” Phil said cheekily, kissing his way down Dan’s neck.

“You’re a fu—” Dan started, but was cut off by the _ding_ of the lift arriving. “Whatever.”

Phil followed Dan into the lift, leaving a respectable distance between them; the lift definitely had a camera, and Phil was pretty sure Dan didn’t want anything caught on tape.

To his surprise, though, Dan pulled Phil in close by the lapels of his jacket. “ _Oof_ ,” Phil grunted as he tumbled forward.

“I want one more kiss before we leave,” Dan whispered in a low, sultry voice, staring up at Phil with hungry eyes. 

Camera be damned, Phil couldn’t resist those eyes or that voice. So Phil went willingly, closing the distance between them and capturing Dan’s lips with his own. Their lips moved together in slow, languid movements, Phil’s arms wrapping around Dan’s waist. Dan’s arms threading around Phil’s neck, and he kissed back slowly, passionately.

The lift ride ended far too soon for either of their likings, the sharp _ding_ startling them both. They had just enough time to spring apart before the doors opened.

Phil appraised Dan out of the corner of his eye — he was all messy curls and swollen lips and Phil wondered if it was just as obvious to everyone else what Dan had been up to just minutes ago. And Phil wondered if it was equally obvious what _he’d_ been doing, too. 

It didn’t matter. Not really. What mattered was that they were here, they were finally _here_ , finally about to go on a proper date and get on with the beginning of them. 

“Ready?” Phil asked with a soft smile.

“Definitely,” Dan grinned back.

***************

Hutong was even more beautiful than the pictures that Dan had seen online and on social media. No picture in the _world_ could do the view from the Shard justice, and the atmosphere of the restaurant was a million times more romantic than Dan had imagined. The restaurant was half-empty, which wasn’t particularly surprising given that it was a weekday night, and most of the clientele looked too old to be a part of his or Phil’s audience.

It seemed crazy that they were technically only about a third of the way up the building, and yet everything below them seemed so _tiny_. And from way up here, Dan and Phil’s reputations seemed so distant, so insignificant, that Dan found himself leaning into Phil in a way he knew he wouldn’t feel comfortable doing down on the ground.

The hostess took their coats and led them to a round table for two at the far end of the restaurant, situated directly in front of the massive floor to ceiling windows. The chairs were intimately pulled together on the same side of the table so that they could both see out, and a red lantern was casting a serene romantic glow.

“The wine and cocktail menu is on the table,” the hostess said in a polite, posh voice, gesturing to a leather book folded between their placings. “Would you like me to have your waitress bring you the dinner menu now?”

“Later is fine, we’ll start with cocktails,” Phil replied, his voice sounding more northern than usual when contrasted against the hostess’s posh accent.

Dan waited until the hostess was out of earshot before turning to Phil and dramatically whispering, “ _Phil!_ This place is _stunning_.” 

Phil shrugged, his hand coming to rest on Dan’s knee and squeezing softly. Everything about Phil was _soft_. His eyes were warm, despite the tidal of emotions, his body was relaxed, his smile was slow and relaxed _._ “A stunning restaurant for a stunning boy,” Phil whispered, looking like he’d like to lean in closer.

A hot flush warmed Dan’s cheeks, and he hoped that it wasn’t _too_ noticeable — he prayed that the red glow of the lantern disguised it at least a _little_. If the way Phil was chuckling and his thumb was brushing back and forth across Dan’s knee was anything to go by, though, Dan suspected that Phil saw anyway.

Phil’s hand was gone from Dan’s leg as quickly as it had come, the moment passing so quickly that Dan almost wondered if he’d imagined it. “Here, pick out something to drink.” 

Grateful for something else to focus on other than Phil’s flattery, Dan took the menu from Phil’s hands and opened it. For a moment, Dan just _stared_ , trying to will his cheeks to chill the fuck out while he hid behind the menu.

When Dan finally calmed down enough to process the menu, he couldn’t help but laugh. There must have been at least a dozen signature cocktails, all with increasingly ridiculous names. _Temple of Heaven, Monk’s Tie, Iron Goddess of Mercy..._

“Phil, look at the names of these!” Dan giggled, leaning in and tilting the menu so that Phil could see as well. Like a mirror image, Phil shifted his body closer to Dan, and suddenly they were mere centimeters apart again.

“Oh my gosh, look at that one!” Childlike laughter was bubbling up in Phil’s voice as he pointed to a drink called _27 Monkeys_. “Did I take us to the zoo by accident?”

“You might have,” Dan agreed gravely, nodding as seriously as he could, pointing to another cocktail. “Look, this one is infused with _peking duck_ , what the hell?” Dan whispered.

Phil’s nose scrunched up in distaste. “Gross. I won’t be ordering _that_ one.” Phil was silent for a moment before pointing to the Putuoshan Pomegranate. “Look! This one has pomegranate _foam_. I’m totally getting this one!”

“You’re such a grown up child,” Dan murmured affectionately, flashing Phil a fond smile. “Am I completely boring if I get the gin martini?”

“Definitely not,” Phil disagreed enthusiastically. “Look it has lotus infused… Noilly Prat, whatever that is…” he trailed off, sounding unsure.

“It’s a type of vermouth, I think.”

Phil rolled his eyes playfully, bumping his shoulder into Dan’s. “Of course you would know that, Mr. Fancy Bar Cart.”

Dan opened his mouth to say something snarky in return, but was interrupted by the appearance of their waiter.

“Good evening, sirs,” the man greeted. “My name is Edward and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. What would you like to drink?”

“I would like the Lotus Martini please,” Dan ordered with a tight smile, subtly leaning towards Phil.

“And I’ll have the Puto — Putu — um. That one,” Phil stuttered anxiously. He pointed to the Putuoshan Pomegranate, glancing nervously up at the waiter.

If the waiter thought Phil was unbearably awkward or rude, he did a good job of hiding it. “Of course, sirs,” he said with a slight bow of his head. “I’ll be back with those in just a moment.”

“Smooth, Phil,” Dan teased when the waiter was gone. Touching Phil was automatic at this point, and Dan couldn’t help dipping inwards and playfully bumping his shoulder against Phil’s.

“Shut up, just because _you_ ordered something easy to say, you don’t get to make fun of me,” Phil retorted, a silly scowl on his face.

“Fine,” Dan sighed dramatically, even as he slipped his hand into Phil’s under the table. “I feel kind of bad, we haven’t actually talked tonight,” Dan apologized, not _actually_ feeling too guilty — he’d rather enjoyed the activities that they’d replaced talking with.

“I think it was worth the trade off.” Phil winked (well, aggressively blinked) at Dan. “Besides, we can talk now,” he offered simply, not seeming at all bothered by the fact that Dan had just _taken_ and _taken_ and _taken_ tonight, without really giving anything in return. 

“True,” Dan agreed, searching Phil’s eyes — Dan searched Phil’s eyes, trying to find any resentment, any demand for Dan to give him something in return. There was none of that though; Phil genuinely just looked _happy_ , happy to give, happy to spoil. And Phil was just so _goddamn_ pretty to look at, his eyes always holding so _fucking much_ , that Dan found himself unable to stop himself from staring. “So what did you do today?”

“Edited, mostly. Answered a few emails. Nothing terribly exciting,” Phil answered simply, sounding rather bored by it. All the same, he flipped their hands under the table, his thumb now stroking across the sensitive flesh of Dan’s palm. 

“Any hints about the next AmazingPhil video?” Dan prodded, trying his best to sound cute and enticing.

It clearly wasn’t effective, because Phil just smirked and bumped his knee into Dan’s playfully. “You’ll just have to wait and see like everyone else.”

Dan pouted and ducked his head so that he could look seductively up at Phil through his lashes. “That’s no way to treat your new boyfriend,” Dan complained, aiming for serious and sexy.

Phil cocked an eyebrow, clearly seeing through Dan’s attempts. “Why do I have a feeling you’re going to abuse that excuse?” Phil rolled his eyes, smiling and squeezing Dan’s hand all the same.

“Probably because I will,” Dan promised snarkily; his inner child took over, and he stuck his tongue out at Phil.

“Okay you _dork_ ,” Phil giggled, his free hand poking Dan’s tongue and causing it to recoil back into his mouth. “I found my old laptop and went through some of the files.”

“Oh _dear_ ,” Dan squawked, laughing loudly — probably too loudly for the quiet atmosphere but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “How cringe was that?”

“Horribly,” Phil cried, his eyes wide, his cheeks already flushing. “I just included some of the silly pictures and videos, though. Anything _too_ embarrassing got left out.” Phil gave Dan a meaningful look.

“Ooooh,” Dan cooed scandalously. “Philip, what did you have on your laptop?” 

Phil stared back, his uncomfortable expression making it quite clear what kinds of stuff might have been floating around his laptop. Abruptly, Phil’s eyes darted over Dan’s shoulder, his face relaxing into a smug grin.

Dan turned around, confused as to why Phil looked so _relieved_ , only to find the waiter hovering at their table again. 

On instinct, Dan pulled his hand from Phil’s, not comfortable with flaunting affection in front of others. Although, the sudden movement was probably more telling than if Dan had just left his hand in Phil’s, in hindsight.

All the way above London, it didn’t seem worth it to be vigilant about their displays of affection, and Dan vowed to relax a little.

“Here are your drinks, sirs,” the waiter nodded cordially, setting their drinks down on the table.

“Thank you!” Phil yelped as he gratefully picked up his drink. 

Dan picked up his glass, inspecting the ombre purple liquid.

“Cheers, Dan,” Phil murmured. He tipped his glass in Dan’s direction, the mountain of foam sloshing dangerously close to the edge. “To new beginnings.”

Dan _clinked_ his glass against Phil’s, smiling despite how utterly _cheesy_ of a toast it was. “Yeah, to new beginnings,” he whispered back.

Maybe it was supposed to be cheesy.

The Lotus Martini was strong, but the flowery taste cut the bitterness of the gin perfectly. “How’s yours?” Dan asked, looking up at Phil over the rim of his glass.

“Amazing,” Phil gushed before taking another sip his frothy cocktail.

Phil lowered the glass, positively _beaming_ at Dan. Some of the foam from the top of Phil’s drink had created a small, pale pink mustache on Phil’s upper lip. 

“Come here, you spoon,” Dan giggled. It was breathtaking how completely adorable the man in front of him could be. The foam framed his mouth perfectly, and if Dan was at home, he _definitely_ would have kissed it away. 

He didn’t feel comfortable doing that here, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do _something_. 

Keeping his promise to himself to fucking _relax_ , Dan tugged Phil closer and swiped his thumb across Phil’s mouth, collecting the foam. 

“Oops,” Phil giggled, looking only a little embarrassed by his sloppiness.

With a smirk and a devilish look in his eye, Dan brought his thumb to his own mouth, sucking it in and obscenely licking the foam off. Phil’s eyes tracked the movement, focused intensely on Dan’s lips. “You taste good,” Dan said with an exaggerated seductive wink.

A hint of arousal flashed in Phil’s eyes as his gazes tracked Dan’s thumb between his lips. “You’re a butthead,” Phil pouted, a smile breaking through.

“ _Your_ butthead, though,” Dan responded saucily, eyebrows raised with a nod of his head.

“Yeah, yeah,” Phil grumbled, dramatically shaking his head in exasperation. Phil took another sip of his drink, eyeing Dan carefully. “So how was your day in the studio?” he asked, his voice a bit higher than normal.

Dan narrowed his eyes, noticing that Phil was trying to smoothly shift the conversation from what they’d been talking about before their waiter showed up. Whatever was on Phil’s computer must have _definitely_ been embarrassing, then. “I see what you’re doing, Lester, but I’ll allow it.”

Phil blushed adorably, and it _almost_ made Dan backtrack on his agreement to change the topic. But he showed mercy — for now — and opted to answer Phil’s question. “My time is split right now. I’ve been writing in the morning and practicing with the other musicians in the afternoon.”

Phil leaned forward, his elbows coming to rest on the table as he faced Dan more fully. “When do you think you’ll start recording?” 

Dan couldn’t help but notice how genuinely _interested_ Phil sounded. He knew by this point it shouldn’t be a surprise, that he shouldn’t continue to be shocked by all the little ways that Phil was different from Isabella — or anyone else he’d dated for that matter. But. Well. He was.

Stalling slightly, Dan took a sip of his drink as he considered Phil’s question. “I like to have every song written first, in case I ended up wanting to change anything. So it probably won’t be for another month or so.”

“That makes sense,” Phil agreed and took a contemplative sip of his drink, avoiding getting more foam on his mouth this time. “I’m like that with videos. I never want to start filming until I’ve got the whole thing planned out, otherwise I usually end up having to refilm the first half.”

“Exactly!” Dan agreed enthusiastically — and loudly. They both glanced around the restaurant, but Dan’s outburst hadn’t seemed to draw any attention to them. “I’m glad you get it.”

It was bloody _amazing_ to be with someone that Dan could connect to creatively, even if they did have completely different forms of art. Just being able to talk about music, and Phil being able to actually _relate_ was so fucking refreshing.

Dan jumped as he heard footsteps approaching, sounding loud in the quiet atmosphere of the restaurant. Turning around, Dan found the waiter at their table again, this time carrying two dinner menus affixed to fancy leather backings. “Take your time, sirs.” 

Taking one of the menus from the waiter, Dan scanned the list of options. Everything sounded delicious — there literally wasn’t a single thing on the menu that Dan wouldn’t eat.

As Dan’s eyes flitted over the menu though, he noticed there was one crucial piece of information missing. “Phil, there are _no_ prices on this menu.”

Phil looked up from his menu, confused. “So?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused, his head tipping to the side.

“What if the food is like, twelve _billion_ pounds?” Dan cried, barely managing to keep his voice hushed. Sure, he was being a _little_ dramatic, but they were at the bloody _Shard_. Just the _cocktails_ had been sixteen damn pounds apiece.

“It’s my treat, Dan,” Phil assured him sweetly, a soft smile doing its best to qualm Dan’s worries. “Order whatever looks good. And pick out a bottle of wine while you’re at it, I’m rubbish at that.”

“Are you sure…?” Dan asked hesitantly. He couldn’t help but drag his eyes around the restaurant, now wary of the fancy decor.

His skepticism must have showed on his face, because Phil rolled his eyes and pushed the drink menu towards Dan as well. “I do plenty well on youtube, Dan. Just pick something and don’t worry about it, okay?” He didn’t sound _annoyed_ , per say, but he was very clearly firm and final, leaving no room for argument on the matter.

Dan’s heart warmed and his stomach swooped. He could count on one had how many times one of his partners had treated _him_ on a date. And even on the few occasions they had, it had _always_ been cheap and simple meals. Never once had anyone spoiled Dan like Phil was tonight — not romantically, not sexually, not monetarily. 

Dan felt like the luckiest man in the world.

“Thanks, Phil,” he whispered so quietly it was nearly inaudible. Resolutely, Dan stared down as his menu, worried that if he looked up, worried that if he met Phil’s eyes, he’d actually tear up and embarrass himself.

Phil must have heard, though, because he knocked his knee against Dan’s under the table. “You’re welcome, babe,” he whispered, sounding a little too knowing for Dan’s taste. The watery tears must have been visible in Dan’s eyes after all. 

Refocusing on his menu, Dan tried his best to swallow his emotions. He loved Chinese food, and it only took him a minute to settle on what he wanted to eat. 

That was one thing easily settled at least. Dan dropped the dinner menu onto the table, and picked up the wine menu, scanning the list. His eyes immediately caught on the far right column, quickly noting that _this_ menu had prices, and _bloody hell_ were they high. Dan’s eyes bulged at the nearly _two thousand pound_ bottle of Bordeaux from France and he quickly scanned back up the list, looking for something more moderately priced.

He ended up settling on a seventy-eight pound bottle of red wine from Italy. It wasn’t the _cheapest_ option on the menu, but Dan didn’t want to make it look like he doubted Phil’s ability to pay for the meal any more than he already had.

But Dan also hoped he wasn’t putting Phil out _too_ much.

Their waiter must have been watching, because he came back almost as soon as they’d both set their menus back on the table. Phil grinned widely at Dan while he ordered, his eyes glancing down at the wine menu when Dan requested the bottle. The smile must have been a good sign — right? Surely Phil wouldn’t smile about Dan’s wine choice if it was too absurdly expensive.

Collecting their menus with a courteous nod, the waiter left them alone again.

“Back to your album,” Phil prompted when Dan turned his attention back to him.

“What about it?” Dan asked casually — or at least, he _hoped_ casually. His album was a bit of a loaded topic, particularly with Phil. But he was willing to talk about it. He _wanted_ to talk about it. He just wasn’t sure how.

“I’ve loved everything I’ve heard so far.” Phil smiled, his hand coming to hold Dan’s under the table again. “I’m sure it will turn out great.”

Dan searched Phil’s face, trying to decipher how much he knew. So far, Phil hadn’t mentioned the snippet of the next song that Dan had played in Germany — a snippet that Dan thought was _very_ obviously about Phil. Dan couldn’t decide if Phil’s silence on the topic of the song meant that he hadn’t _heard_ it, or just that he was waiting to bring it up.

“Hmmm,” Dan acknowledged, taking an apprehensive, well-timed drink and waiting to see if Phil would continue on his own.

He did.

“The song you teased from your album in Germany,” Phil started. His thumb was lightly caressing the back of Dan’s hands but Dan could feel the slight nervous quiver. “That’s the one you wrote that first time we skyped, wasn’t it?”

Shit. Of course Phil had heard it — Of course Phil would have looked up videos of the concert. Not that Dan had a _problem_ with Phil having seen it, per say. Dan just kind of wanted Phil to hear it for the first time in person, when it was just them. And preferably the whole thing, not just a few lines.

Dan felt his cheeks turning bright red, which was probably all the confirmation that Phil needed to know that his suspicions were right. That song was about Phil and there was absolutely _no_ denying it at this point.

“Yeah…” Dan agreed slowly, his eyes warily appraising Phil as he tried to place Phil’s emotions. “What did you think?” 

Phil smiled, glancing down at their hidden hands and back up to Dan’s eyes. “It’s easily my favorite song you’ve ever written. Actually, it’s my favorite song in general.”

Dan’s gaze bashfully fell to his lap, a self-conscious smile growing on his face.“You haven’t even heard the whole thing,” he mumbled.

“You could fix that, you know,” Phil said pointedly.

Looking back up at Phil, Dan took another sip of his martini and shrugged. “Mmmm, yes and no...”

Phil’s brows furrowed, his head cocking to one side. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, sounding bewildered.

“I’m kind of, um,” Dan’s eyes flickered to the window. The lights of London were beautiful, but as he looked back at Phil, Dan knew that the man in front of him was even prettier. “I’m rewriting part of it,” he confessed.

“Since when?” Phil demanded, his eyebrows raised and his eyes wide; he looked rather taken aback. “I thought you said you finished it.”

Dan swallowed his nerves and forced himself to pull on a smirk, instead. “I dunno, maybe like two hours or so ago.”

Just as Dan had hoped, Phil’s cheeks flushed red and his jaw dropped. “Is _that_ what that was in the middle of —” Phil glanced around, his voice dropping several levels, “ _sex_?”

A loud, bellowing laugh escaped Dan, surely drawing attention to them this time. “It wasn’t exactly _sex_ , Phil,” Dan whispered back brazenly.

“Close enough,” Phil muttered with a shrug. His eyes searched Dan’s face and Dan sheepishly swallowed the last bit of his martini. “Why are you rewriting it, then?”

“Not all of it, just some,” Dan corrected. Beneath the table, Dan hooked his foot around Phil’s ankle. “I wrote it before _this_ happened,” Dan gestured between them. “I thought it could use some updating.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Phil conceded with a broad smile and a twinkle in his eye. Dan stared back at Phil, their gaze growing more and more heated as they both remembered exactly _what_ they’d been doing when Dan had spontaneously decided to rewrite part of his song.

“Your wine, sirs,” the waiter interjected, suddenly snapping the tension that was building between Dan and Phil. “Would one of you like to taste?” 

Phil nodded towards Dan. “He will.”

While the waiter sat the bottle down on the table and uncorked it, Dan tried to subtly put a bit of distance between him and Phil by slipping his hand from Phil’s and sitting straighter in his seat. The waiter poured a splash of wine into Dan’s glass, waiting expectantly as he sampled it.

“It’s great, thanks.” Even to his own ears, Dan’s voice sounded high and overly polite, a mockery of his posh accent.

With a nod, the waiter filled both of their glasses and sat the remainder of the bottle on the table. “Your food will be out shortly,” he assured them as he picked up their empty cocktail glasses.

The wine was amazing, just like the view and the cocktails and the restaurant. The best part of the night was Phil, though — by a long shot. As much as Dan appreciated being spoiled, he knew that this still would have been the best date of his life if they’d gone to a sketchy five-pound Chinese food buffet.

The food was certainly better than that would have been, though. Dan had to bite back a pornographic moan when he first bit into his meal, confident that the restaurant staff would frown on such behavior. Phil fed Dan bites of his meal, as well, which was equally good — if not better, because Phil was carefully guiding it into Dan’s mouth, smiling and giggling the entire time. 

By the time their food and wine was gone and the check was paid (entirely by Phil, who refused to let Dan see the price), Dan was feeling loose, tipsy, and utterly _infatuated_. 

“Can you come back to mine, tonight?” Dan asked, his hand falling on Phil’s thigh.

“I wish, but I’ve got early meetings tomorrow.” Phil sounded like it was taking a lot of self control to turn Dan down. “And besides, you have to be at the studio in the morning.

“I guess,” Dan grumbled. “We can just sleep, you know. We don’t have to _do_ anything.”

Phil chuckled, his hand falling on top of Dan’s, which had inadvertently creeped its way up Phil’s thigh. Gently, Phil pushed it down a few centimeters. “I think we both know that won’t work tonight.” 

“Fine. I want to see you soon, though.” Dan pouted.

“Of course,” Phil promised. His eyes darted around the restaurant, and Dan was suddenly aware that they were one of two tables left. “We should leave now. I think they’re closing soon.”

Dan’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, an idea forming in his head. “I have to run to the loo, first.”

“Go ahead, I’ll wait here.”

Dan hummed, eyes narrowed, and laced his hands through Phil’s, tugging gently. “I think you need to use it as well.”

Brows raised in suspicion, Phil stood, dropping Dan’s hand as soon as the cover of the table was gone. “Lead the way, then.”

The bathrooms were tucked away in a small hallway, thankfully. No one was around to notice when Dan pulled Phil into the family bathroom and locked the door behind them.

“Dan, what are you doing?” Phil asked warily. His eyes were wide as they flickered from Dan to the locked door.

“I just wanted a moment to properly say thank you in private,” Dan whispered in what he hoped was a low and sexy voice.

“I really don’t think we should…” Phil raised his eyebrows suggestively, “ _here_.”

Dan giggled, pulling Phil closer by his hips. “Shush, you spoon. I just wanted to do this.”

Before Phil could protest, Dan’s lips met his, moving slowly and languidly. It only took a second before Phil was kissing back, his arms wrapping around Dan’s neck and pulling him infinitesimally closer. It was gentle and sweet — a perfect ending to how their whole night had been.

Dan pulled back before it could grow heated. “Thank you for tonight, Phil,” Dan whispered against Phil’s lips. “This was the most fun I’ve ever had.”

This time, it was Phil who closed the distance as he pressed a chaste kiss to Dan’s lips. “It was my pleasure.” Phil straightened up. “Now we should go before anyone thinks we really _are_ fucking in here.”

Dan giggled, but stepped out of Phil’s embrace all the same. He unlocked the door and led Phil through the lobby of the restaurant, collecting their jackets on the way out. During the lift ride down the thirty-three floors, Dan called them an uber, entering his address as the first stop, and Phil’s as the second.

The car ride back to Dan’s was filled with a comfortable, satiated silence. They were both too happy, too lost in their own heads, to make conversation anymore, but their hands had drifted across the back seat, their pinkies entwined.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come up?” Dan asked as the uber turned onto his street. 

“I really shouldn’t,” Phil replied in a hushed voice. The uber pulled to a stop in front of Dan’s building and Phil unbuckled Dan’s seatbelt for him. “I’ll see you soon, though.”

“Text me sooner?” Dan asked hopefully.

“As soon as I get home,” Phil promised, his hand finding Dan’s and squeezing once.

Dan smiled, opening his door. “Good.”

The air seemed much crisper without Phil by his side, and Dan walked quickly into his building, fishing his lift key out of his pocket as he went.

“Mr. Howell,” the doorman said as Dan crossed the lobby.

“Hello, Todd,” Dan greeted without stopping. At this point, he just wanted to curl up in his fluffy bed and reminisce on what was definitely the most perfect date of his life.

“Sir, you have a visitor,” Todd called after Dan.

Confused, Dan spun on his heel, only to feel his heart _plummet_ into his stomach. All of the happiness from tonight’s date vanished in an instant, and Dan was certain that all of the air had been sucked from the room. 

“Hi Danny, I see you took me off your visitors list.”


	25. 25 (5744)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: @auroraphilealis kicked my ass into gear tonight because i got home and she was like... are you tired... because you could post tonight. and then patiently sat there with me while i edited.
> 
> a/n2: shorter than normal, but it’s been less than a week? i think? you better hope good things come in small(er) packages.

“Isabella,” Dan muttered, empty and shaken. It took him nearly a full second of staring at her to meet her eyes.

She was perched on the back of the lobby sofa, her long legs stretched out in front of her, hooked at the ankle. In her hands was a manila envelope — something that seemed incredibly out of place given the rest of her sultry, borderline inappropriate, appearance. Two months ago, Dan’s eyes would have traced over her curves in the tight dress, probably gotten turned on by the fact that it was so short that he would _definitely_ be able to see her lacy underwear if he just bent down a little. Her hair was in immaculate loose curls, her makeup overstated and dark. She hadn’t changed a bit since Dan had seen her last.

“Well, aren’t you going to invite me up, Danny?” Isabella asked, one eyebrow raised, a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips. Pointed, blood red nails drummed against the yellow envelope as she waited impatiently.

The question was enough to finally shake Dan from his numb stupor. His eyes flickered to Todd, who was watching the scene carefully and looked ready to intervene if necessary. Their eyes met, and Todd quirked his head, silently questioning if Dan needed help. Not bothering to be subtle about it, Dan held up one finger and shook his head. 

“Well, Danny?” Isabella asked — _taunted_ more like. 

Dan’s attention snapped back to her, his blood nearly _boiling_ just from the thirty seconds of interaction. “Definitely not,” Dan spat harshly, spinning around without a second glance, storming off towards the lift. Isabella had always had the tendency to bring out the most… _passionate_ side of him. Usually not in an attractive way.

He only got a few strides away before Isabella was calling after him again. “Oh, but I really think you should. I’ve got something that I think you’ll be _very_ interested in.”

Dan slowly, warily turned around. Isabella had stood up, and was smugly fanning herself with the envelope. Dan’s mind sorted through possibilities, trying to figure out what it could _possibly_ be — if there was _anything_ that would be important enough that he’d willingly let her into his flat. He was coming up short, though. Whatever was in that envelope was a mystery to him.

“What is that?” Dan forced out through gritted teeth, eyes fixed on the envelope.

“Something special for you. See, I’ve got a meeting with Tatler on Friday, and I think we should talk about what I’m going to say,” Isabella explained. Her voice was dripping with forced honey; she was talking to him like he was a small child. 

The small amount of blood that had still been in Dan’s face drained away. 

Suddenly, it seemed like there could be a _lot_ of things in the envelope: his sexuality, Phil, a distorted version of their break up… 

All things Dan wasn’t keen on Isabella spilling to the public. 

Unsubtly, Isabella shifted her gaze to Todd. “Away from prying ears.”

“Todd,” Dan said as he tore his eyes from Isabella to look at the doorman. “I’ll ring down if I need you. Be on alert, please.”

“Yes Mr. Howell,” Todd agreed. The familiar, polite smile that he usually sported had been replaced with a grim look of concern. His brows were furrowed together, his eyes alert, his chest puffed out. He looked ready for action.

The _clack clack clack_ of Isabella’s stilettos echoed as she crossed the lobby, a wicked smile pulling her lips too tightly against her teeth. With a resigned sigh, Dan followed her, feeling like he was marching to his grave, not his own flat.

Dan wordlessly pushed the call button for the lift, worriedly spinning his key back and forth in his hands. When the lift doors opened, Dan stalked forward silently, Isabella following behind without any further invitation. 

A flurry of emotions — anger, disappointment, _fear_ — was making Dan’s hands _tremble_. Three times, he unsuccessfully tried to guide his key into the correct slot, his shaking hands missing every time. With every failed attempt, he felt the intensity of Isabella’s stare increasing, felt her disdain growing.

His fourth attempt was interrupted by a loud, derisive scoff. “Do you have _nail polish_ on?” 

Dan tugged the sleeves of his jumper over his hands, suddenly self conscious about his nails again. Using his clothed knuckle, Dan jabbed the button for his flat before protectively crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“I thought only fags did that,” she ridiculed, sounding _repulsed_. “Oh wait, I forgot. You’re a little queer boy aren’t you?”

Dan tried not to flinch, tried not to let her see how much the words had affected him. They sounded far too much like the playground taunts he’d endured in primary school, the jeers of the boys on the football team in sixth form. 

_Phil likes them_ , Dan’s mind supplied weakly as he tried to block her out. Her opinion of him didn’t matter anymore — and, really, never did. He just wanted to find out what she had in that fucking envelope and get her out of his life again.

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to end.

He was supposed to have been able to curl up in bed, maybe watch a cheesy rom-com while drinking a glass of wine, and fall asleep still high on his date with Phil. Instead, he was currently stuck in the most tense lift ride in history, with his ex-girlfriend, all while trying to push through the gnawing feeling in his stomach that something was very, _very_ wrong. 

Dan was so on edge that the _ding_ of the lift doors startled him, causing him to jump and yelp quietly. Isabella laughed at him — a laugh full of contempt and judgement. Ashamed, Dan ducked his head and led the way off the lift.

He came to a halt in the foyer, not wanting to let her further into the flat if avoidable. The closer she was to the exit, the easier it would be to throw her out once Dan figured out what the bloody _hell_ she was after. 

Dan stared at her anxiously, his eyes pointedly flicking down to her hands. 

He expected her to tell him what the _fuck_ this was about, but she brushed straight passed him, deliberately ignoring Dan’s obvious attempts to keep her out of his flat. Frustrated, Dan trailed after her, following her closely down the hallway and, apparently to the lounge.

His path was cut short, though, when she abruptly stopped just inside the lounge entrance, and he ran _smack_ into her.

“What the _fuck_ , Izzy?” Dan bellowed, confused and annoyed. She was the one who’d wanted to go further into Dan’s flat. What the _fuck_ had she stopped for? Dan pushed around her, taking the state of the lounge. Everything about it screamed _date_ — and date with _a man_ , at that. The white flowers looked lovely on the bar cart, situated between two untouched glasses of red wine. The rest of the lounge though… well, frankly, the rest of the lounge was kind of a hot mess.

The sofa pillows were all knocked the floor. The blanket was disheveled and had a very distinct white streak on it — and the towel on the sofa was _covered_ in matching, obvious stains. There was an open bottle of lube on the coffee table, a few drops of which appeared to have leaked out now that Dan was looking more closely. 

Dan wasn’t _exactly_ sure what he expected from Isabella, but it was probably something along the lines of a screaming fit followed by having the flowers thrown mercilessly at his head. What he _didn’t_ expect, was Isabella huffing dramatically but entering the room without comment, carefully skirting around all of the dubious objects to sit on the rarely used armchair. 

She sat primly, on the very edge of the chair, her thin legs crossed in front of her. Dan wondered, briefly, if she was sitting so precariously because she was uncomfortable — he wondered if she thought maybe they’d fucked on that chair. 

He almost wished they had. He almost wished he’d bent forward over the cushion and let Phil take him from behind. Almost wished that he’d come all over the cushion and not bothered to clean it up, wished that he’d stained the spot she was sitting.

From her perch, Isabella’s scornful eyes scanned the room, but she didn’t make any comment about the state of the lounge— even though it was _painfully_ clear what had happened earlier. Somehow, the silent disapproving was almost more hurtful than a snide comment would have been.

Chucking the soiled towel to the side, Dan settled onto the sofa. He picked up one of the discarded pillows and hugged it close to his chest, relishing the small bit of comfort it provided, and waited. 

“I’m not asking to get back together. It’s clear that…” Her eyes dropped down to the lube in front of Dan, “That you’re with the _tarado_ from the coffeeshop,” Isabella finished, her voice alarmingly neutral despite the derogatory language. 

Dan jerked his head once in an attempt at nodding. It was taking every single bit of Dan’s self control to be civil right now, and he knew if he opened his mouth, nothing but _hate_ would come out.

“I’ve come to make you an offer. One that I think could be very beneficial for both of us.”

 _Ah hah_! Dan thought bitterly, that was why she was being so calm, so _un_ -Isabella. She wanted something from him. Of course she did. All Isabella had ever done was _take take take_. Why would it be any different now?

“Consider it a _no_ ,” Dan spat.

“You haven’t even heard what I have to say, Danny. That’s very rude.”

“Well, I think you’re a bitch, so. Forgive me.” 

Isabella closed her eyes, long fake lashes fluttering against her cheeks, and took a few deep breaths — apparently Dan had managed to rattle her a bit. _Good_.

Her eyes opened again and she flashed Dan a forced smile. “Like I was saying. I’m making you an offer.” Dan opened his mouth to rebut again, but Isabella held up a hand to silence him. “As you may have seen, my appearance in the media has… gone down some since we stopped dating.” 

Her voice was tense, and it looked like she was barely managing to retain her dignity during the admission. Dan bit back a hateful laugh, and merely nodded in acknowledgement.

Not that he was… completely certain what he was agreeing to. He’d hardly kept up with her _media presence_ since he’d dumped her. In fact, he’d blacklisted her name wherever possible, so… yeah. He had no real idea.

It was a little satisfying to hear she’d fallen from grace, though.

Isabella continued, her tone carefully even. “And I’ve noticed that rumors have been flying around about you and that —” Isabella stopped abruptly, seeming to choose a nicer word at the last second. “Boy.”

Dan nodded again. His teeth dug into his lip so harshly that, if he was less worried about what Isabella was getting at, he’d be worried that he was drawing blood. 

“I think we should get back together — publically,” she added hastily before Dan could react. “And if you want to keep dating the _pen_ — _Phil_ , that’s fine.”

Dan’s jaw _dropped_. For several seconds, all he was capable of doing was staring at her, trying to process, trying to figure out if she’d _really just said that_. 

When the meaning of her words finally sunk in — that she apparently wanted to be his _beard_ — indignant anger roared up again. “And what,” he cried, “You’ll keep fucking around with other guys?”

Isabella flinched at Dan’s harsh word choice, but clearly tried to remain pleasant. “It’s only fair that I’m allowed to see other people, if _you_ are,” she replied haughtily. Her tone was blunt, terse. 

“Really?” Dan finally let out the bitter laugh he’d been holding back. “As I recall, you took the liberty of seeing other people even when I _wasn’t_ allowed to.”

“ _Suétalo_ ,” Isabella said dismissively. She _finally_ opened the envelope and pulled out two small stapled packets. “I had a contract made for us, and printed one out for each of us. Don’t worry, the lawyer is a very discreet man.” Isabella slid one of the packets across the table, narrowing missing the small puddle of lube. “The terms are listed on the second page.”

In a daze, Dan leaned forward and plucked the contract off the table, setting his phone down in exchange. He turned the page to see what Isabella was talking about. It was _long_ — like, it appeared to carry onto the next page _long_.

“As you’ll see,” Isabella started, opening her packet to the same page. “We’ll go on two dates together each week, unless one of us is traveling. At least one date will be on a weekend night, and both dates will include drinks _and_ dinner. I will attend all events with you, as your date. Charity events, publicity events, award shows, and other work events do not count as one of the two weekly dates.”

Dan’s eyes followed along on the paper, where each term was written in excruciating detail. 

“You will start coming to my work events,” Isabella read off the next point on the list. Chillingly, this was the most professional and direct Dan had ever heard her sound — a change that was definitely alarming. “You will attend all runway shows I am a part of, and bring at least one famous friend — _Phil_ doesn’t count.” Phil’s name still sounded like a curse word on Isabella’s lips, but at least she was using his name. “You will also stop by any major photoshoots I have. I want the media to see you actively supporting my modeling career.”

Dan’s mind was reeling. Fleeting pictures of runway shows flashed through his mind. They’d be boring, unbelievably _dull_. Especially since she tended to do a lot of shoots for high end women’s lingerie — something he was never planning to buy again.

Well, maybe not _never_ , Dan thought as his eyes caught on his own nails.

Isabella continued on, not noticing that Dan’s mind was drifting. “We will also maintain a constant social media presence. We will both post at least one picture or tweet about each date, in addition to at least two other posts per week.”

Out of habit, Dan’s eyes flickered to his phone at the mention of social media, and he saw that it was lighting up with what looked like a _third_ message from Phil. Dan really wished he could lean forward and look at them right now.

“Every other month, we will go on a trip together, which will all be at _least_ a long weekend. Vacations can be a part of international work events, but posting on twitter and instagram is expected to increase.”

Dan looked back at the page, his eyes falling on the last term just as she mentioned it.

“And of course, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this, but you’ll obviously limit the amount of time that you’re seen in public with Phil. You won’t be seen out with him at nights, and if you get food together, you will always eat at predetermined unromantic restaurants.”

Everything about this was bullshit — there wasn’t a single term or idea that Isabella had presented that seemed rational or acceptable to Dan. He’d hardly even bothered to pay attention as she was reading off the contract, but this _rule_ — the implication that he’d _never_ get to have a night like tonight again — 

That was the last straw.

Dan threw his contract onto the table, noticing that it _definitely_ landed in the little puddle of lube. _Good_.

“Why the _fuck_ would I agree to any of this?” Dan seethed.

“It’s the perfect solution. You’ll be in a relationship, so everyone will stop speculating about you and that boy. And at night, you can—” her eyes flicked down meaningfully to the bottle of lube on the coffee table, “— get fucked without anyone knowing you prefer it up the ass.”

“I don’t just bot—” Dan snapped his mouth shut before he could say any more of that sentence. _That_ wasn’t a conversation worth having. “I’m not going to let Phil be my dirty little secret.”

“But isn’t that what’s already going to happen?” she asked simply, patronizingly. “You’re not coming out, so you’re going to have to limit your public interactions, anyway. This way, you have the added benefit of having a _girl_ friend.” Isabella smirked widely, looking like she well won the fight already. “People won’t pay as much attention to you and _Phil_.”

 _Fuck_ , Dan hated, _hated_ the fact that there was a shred of sense in what she was saying. He _was_ going to have to be subtle with Phil — not that he’d never had to do that in the past — and a fake relationship with Isabella really _would_ do wonders about the rumors that were already circling, would be just enough for people’s heteronormative minds to make them stop questioning his sexuality.

“And what happens if I _don’t_ say yes?” Dan demanded roughly. 

“Well, see I already have a meeting set up with Tatler, and I _did_ promise them an inside scoop…” Isabella trailed off suggestively, a look of mock concern on her face.

“Cancel, then,” Dan ordered through gritted teeth.

“Oh Danny, that would be so rude though!” She batted her eyes, her voice falsely sweet. “I’d have to give them a different story.”

A feeling of dread washed over Dan, rushing from his stomach all the way up his throat. 

“What story?” he managed to ask.

“Turn to the next page, and read along under _breaches of contract_ ,” Isabella prompted, a note of triumph in her voice — a tone that made Dan _very_ wary. 

Dan did as she said, and found nearly an entire _page_ of her loopy, cursive handwriting — presumably so the lawyer wouldn’t know the contents. Heart _pounding_ , Dan tried to skim the paragraph, but his hands were shaking so much that the paper was illegible. 

He didn’t really need to read, anyway, because Isabella was smiling a _vicious_ grin, leaning forward and explaining herself. “I’d have to tell them about how during our whole relationship, you were interested in men and fantasized about them — and even how you made me wear a _strap on_ when we had sex. About how you were determined to stay together because you wanted people to think you were straight, because you didn’t _want_ to be gay.”

Dan’s heart wasn’t pounding anymore. In fact, it felt like it had _completely_ stopped, and crash landed into his stomach. He wasn’t _ashamed_ of liking men, had never wanted to _not_ be attracted to them. It was just easier to explain to the media. But still, he’d never… strictly adhered to gender roles. He knew he had a fairly large LGBTQ+ fanbase — a fanbase that would be _crushed_ to hear that he supposedly held such internally homophobic views. 

Isabella didn’t stop speaking, still sounding smug and triumphant. Dan listened — _painfully_ forced himself to listen — as he stared at the uncapped lube on the table.

“And then,” Isabella gasped in mock horror. “Imagine my horror when I came over one night and caught you in bed with _Phil_ , getting fucked from behind…”

 _Fuck her_ , Dan cursed internally. He hadn’t even had the chance to _do_ that with Phil yet, and here she was putting these false, _horrible_ images in his head. Images of him and Phil _not_ being as good as they’d been, images of Dan _finally_ getting to feel Phil only to have Isabella burst in. 

They’d been _so fucking good_ for months. These weren’t the images of their first time that should be flooding Dan’s mind. Especially not tonight. 

“I’m so _scarred_ from it, it was so hurtful.” Isabella wiped away a fake tear, her long pointed nails smudging the black eyeliner under her eyes. “And then I’ll tell them how we tried to fix our relationship, how you told me to sleep with other men because you knew you weren’t _man_ enough for me.”

The knife in Dan’s gut dug a little deeper, twisted a little further. On top of it all — the accusations about his confidence, his pride in his sexuality, his dignity… to add on the fact that Isabella _cheating_ had been his suggestion.

 _Fuck_. Dan’s eyes snapped shut, tears on the verge of spilling out. He felt one leak out, trickle down the side of his nose, and he willed it to disappear. Willed Isabella to not see it. Willed himself to not wipe it away and draw Isabella’s attention to how deeply she was affecting him.

“And,” Isabella sighed melodramatically, her dark-stained lips pulled into a nefarious grin. “In the end, I had to leave you because it was too much pressure and too much shame. You begged me to stay, but I had to do what was right for—” 

“You fucking wouldn’t,” Dan seethed, cutting her off before she could finish her story. “Not a single fucking detail of that is true.”

Isabella cackled — literally _cackled_ ; her head fell back, a humourless laugh mocking Dan. “It’ll be my word against yours, though. And the media _usually_ sides with the victim.” Isabella shook her head, and shot Dan a look _filled_ with insincere pity. “But if you’re willing to risk it…”

“You bitch,” Dan roared, interrupting her again. He leapt to his feet — to do _what_ , he wasn’t sure. “You signed a non-disclosure agreement! I could sue you for going public about my sexuality!”

“You could,” Isabella agreed, but the smirk on her face made Dan feel like he’d just lost another battle, not won one. “But it wouldn’t be a quiet trial, and when people found out you were suing me because I told the media that you weren’t straight, that would just confirm my story in their eyes.”

Dan’s heart was beating roughly against his chest, his mind speeding through a million different scenarios as he tried to make sense of what Isabella had said, tried to figure out if there was a different way to spin it. 

Shit, _fuck_.

Dan sunk down back into the sofa, defeated. That was _exactly_ how it would appear. And the media probably _would_ side with her, the story she’d concocted would tarnish any good reputation he had. 

And Phil.

 _Fuck_. Phil.

Phil’s entire _livelihood_ depended on his personality, his brand. Having an _affair_ was about as off brand as it got for Phil. It would probably _destroy_ him. Dan, at least, made music — music that some people would continue to listen to even after finding out he was a piece of shit. But Phil would probably lose _everything_. And, shit, it would break Phil’s _heart_ if he viewers thought he was capable of such immoral behavior.

“I — I need to think about this,” Dan muttered. Against his will, he crumpled forward, his legs drawing up into his body. He was so fucking _overwhelmed_ , so _hurt_. Tears pricked at his eyes again, and this time he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold them back.

To his surprise, Isabella dropped the other contract onto the table and stood up. “You have until five tomorrow evening to drop off both signed copies at my flat. If they aren’t there when I get home from work, I’m telling the other story.”

Dan didn’t have it in him to look up. The tears in his eyes were rapidly accumulating, and he was afraid that if he looked at her, if he met her eyes, he’d well and truly break down.

Her heels _clacked_ loudly as she rounded the table, coming to a stop directly in front of Dan. Her long, manicured fingers reached under his chin and tipped his head up. A loud, wet kiss was pressed to his forehead, surely leaving behind a perfect dark red mark from her lipstick.

Her lips felt like fire against his forehead — and not in a good way. It took all of his strength to not recoil, to not give her the satisfaction of knowing that she’d intimidated him. 

“I own you, Dan Howell,” she whispered in his ear. 

For a split second, Dan was worried that the pretty cocktail, the expensive wine, the fancy dinner, would all come back up. The fear wracked his body so hard, so aggressively, that Dan was _sure_ that he was about to throw up. 

With a rough swallow, Dan forced himself to look up. His eyes followed her as she crossed the room, watching as she came to a halt by the bar cart and spun around again. A wicked smile painted her face, a devilish glint in her eyes. Her hip popped out, one hand dramatically resting on it. 

“Remember Dan,” Isabella threatened, her voice dropping low and properly angry for the first time tonight. “If you don’t sign or if you, say, try to tell the media about this little arrangement tomorrow, I’ll just —” She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, the mirth on her face ruining the illusion. Two fingers delicately pushed on the flower vase with _just_ enough force to send it toppling to the floor. There was a loud _crash_ as the vase shattered, water running everywhere, the flowers falling limply amongst the debris. “Spill. See you tomorrow, Danny.”

A loud _screech_ hurt Dan’s ears as she turned abruptly, her stilettos scraping across the wood floors. Dan tore his eyes from her swinging hips, his gaze shifting to his feet. Looking up, looking at Isabella’s retreating form, the damage of the flowers, the contract on the table, it was all too much. His sleek, black shoes were a better place for his attention right now. 

When the lift dinged, the unsigned contracts and destroyed vase were the only evidence that Isabella had been there at all. Well, that and Dan’s crushed soul. 

Mechanically, Dan started to kick his shoes off. He got one foot half free before he realized that it would be better to leave them on because of the shards of glass. 

“Jesus on a _fucking_ tricycle,” Dan muttered under his breath, his brain not fully grasping on to everything just yet. He shakily pushed himself off the sofa, and shoved his phone into his back pocket. He’d deal with Phil’s messages later, when he could stand it better. 

Dan made his way to the kitchen, trying his best to sidestep around the scattered flowers — it was a pretty crap attempt, admittedly, given the loud _crunch_ of glass beneath his feet

The cabinets were barren, especially since he hadn’t replaced his mugs yet. He definitely didn’t own much by way of glassware. But still, he rummaged around his cabinets, desperately looking for something he could put the flowers in so that they wouldn’t die.

Everything he could find was far too short (like his drinking glasses) or far too fat (like his mixing bowls). In the sink, Dan spotted the drink pitcher, the one that he’d made gin and tonics for him and Phil in just two nights ago. 

_Good enough._

Dan dumped out the watery remnants of the drink, doing his best to rinse it out a little bit even though he barely had the emotional energy to even _hold_ the heavy glass pitcher. Hot water swished through it once, twice, three times, and Dan hoped it would do, hoped that he’d gotten enough of the toxic liquor out that he wouldn’t kill his beautiful flowers instantly. Smacking the sink handle to the right, Dan waited for the water to get cold, and then shoved the pitcher under the stream of water, numbly watching the pitcher fill.

He must have zoned out, because all of a sudden the water was bubbling over and cascading down the sides. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck fuck fuck_ ,” Dan muttered, slamming the handle down to stop the water flow, and carelessly dumping a portion of the water out.

Realistically, he’d probably dumped _too_ much of the water out — it was only just barely half full now. _Fuck_ , was he capable of doing _anything_ right tonight?

He couldn’t bring himself to care, though. The flowers would have to deal with half a pitcher of water, at least for tonight.

Without bothering to wipe down the mess of water, Dan turned on his heel and took the drink pitcher back into the lounge. 

Now that he’d had a few minutes of distance, the mess of the flowers looked even more disastrous. Before, he hadn’t realized just _how_ shattered the vase was, hadn’t noticed the way the piece of glass he’d stepped on had turned to crumbs. He certainly hadn’t noticed the massive puddle of water that was slowly inching its way across the room.

Fuck.

He should have brought a towel.

And a maybe a rubbish bin for the glass, too.

He was such a _useless_ fucking bastard. 

He sunk down anyway though, his bum landing right in the middle of the water, probably sitting on a few pieces of glass, too — not that he was capable of feeling that right now. Dan numbly gathered the flowers, one by one, shaking each stem off before placing it in the new pitcher. One rose had snapped in half during the fall, the stem too short to let it stand with the others. It wasn’t perfect anymore. It, too, had been tainted by Isabella.

Dan considered throwing the stem out — hell, for a brief moment he considered throwing _all_ the roses out — but he didn’t have the heart to do it. He wanted them, they were _important_ to him. He just didn’t want them to have been fucking touched by Isabella.

Resigned, Dan shoved the broken flower in with the others, letting it fall all the way down, and pushed the pitcher away so he didn’t have to look at it right this second. 

He turned his attention to the glass. The flat, heavy bottom of the vase was still intact, so Dan laid it out as a temporary place where he could pile the broken pieces. Shard by shard, Dan picked up the bits of glass, dropping them into a small mound. His hands were shaking far too much to be doing this. Each time he picked up a sliver of glass, he nearly cut himself. Objectively, he knew he should stop. He should just leave the mess, maybe text the maid and ask if she could come tomorrow instead of Friday, and go to bed.

But for some reason, Dan knew that the knowledge that the glass was sitting here, scattered around his lounge, would eat away at his soul. He knew he’d _never_ be able to sleep if he didn’t at least try to fix it now.

He couldn’t fix _Isabella_ tonight. He didn’t have any magic solutions, didn’t know how to make the whole situation go away. The one _tiny_ fucking thing that he _could_ do was to get rid of the damn glass.

So god fucking damn it, he was going to clean up this fucking mess. 

And so Dan sat, methodically finding chunk after chunk, sliver after sliver, and adding them to the growing mountain of glass. Under the bar cart, there was a particularly jagged piece — it was all sharp angles and rough edges. Dan could tell it looked more dangerous than the rest. Nonetheless, he reached out for the shard anyway, his fingers slipping as he fumbled for the piece. The top of his finger scraped against it harshly, and Dan recoiled, his hand flying to his chest.

He looked down, expecting blood, but instead saw a small red scratch leading up to his nail — his previously _perfect_ silver nail that now had a wobbly line drawn through it, the polish scraped away.

A sob caught in his throat, and Dan drew his knees up to his chest, letting the pain and anger finally wash over him. He was _furious_ and _hurt_ and _scared_ and he had no _fucking_ clue what to do.

So he pushed the mountain of glass away, let his head fall forward, and _cried_.

Sob after sob wracked his body, and soon he was _gasping_ for air, his vision blurred with tears. His body was trembling, and tears were running down his face. The fancy Versace sweater was probably ruined by now, given how many times Dan had messily wiped his nose on it.

How long he cried for, he wasn’t sure, but eventually the insistent buzzing of his phone in his pocket drew him out of his stupor. Shifting as little as possible, Dan dug his phone out of his back pocket, sighing deeply when he saw the hairline crack that was now running across the screen. 

_Phil :)_ was calling, and Dan didn’t have the heart to pick up. If he answered it, Phil would be able to tell how upset he was, would wonder what had happened, if he’d done something… 

Dan couldn’t enjoy the high from tonight any longer, but that didn’t mean Phil couldn’t. He’d call Phil tomorrow, explain to him the two shitty options — a fake relationship or a reputation wrecking story — in the morning. Dan pressed the side button, making the buzzing stop, and waited for the screen to go back to normal.

His eyes stared at the fracture in the screen, and drifted up to the pile of glass. He needed to not be alone, though. Not right now, not tonight. He needed _help_.

Dan unlocked his phone, and tapped _call_ on the top contact in his favorites list.

The phone only rang twice. 

“Dan? How was your date?”

“C-can y-ou,” Dan’s voice was _wretched_ , his breaths too uneven for him to speak properly. He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to collect himself. “I n-need you t-to come over h-here n-now.” A broken sob escaped Dan’s throat. “P-please,” he added.

“Of course, love.” A warm, _concerned_ voice tried to console him. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't kill me.
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> like and reblog on tumblr 


	26. 26 (9394 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a massive thank you, as always, to [ auroraphilealis ](http://www.auroraphilealis.tumblr.com) for her never ending help, for pushing me to always be my best, and being my cheerleader (and for helping me try to figure out color codes.... and then fucking about on photoshop when i'm sure she had better shit to do)

As soon as Louise promised she was on her way, Dan pulled his phone away from his ear and pressed the red end button, completely unable to say any more than he already had. The forty-five seconds of speaking had taken all of Dan’s energy. He didn’t even have it in him to say goodbye.

Carelessly, Dan dropped his phone, barely noticing the loud _thump_ it made as it hit the floor — a noise that would usually make him cringe and rush to make sure it was okay. Even if he could bring himself to pay it any attention, it wouldn’t matter. He’d already managed to crack the screen tonight. A few more dings wouldn’t make a difference. 

The fear and anger and distress from his confrontation with Isabella begin to hit Dan in waves, sobs all-consuming as they wracked his body. His shoulders were shaking, his newly-imperfect nails digging into his shins, his head hanging low. Frustrated and despondent, Dan rubbed at his forehead, desperately trying to rub off the red lipstick he knew Isabella had intentionally left behind on his skin. 

There was a ball of tension in his chest that seemed to be growing tighter and tighter by the second, and Dan could feel himself spiraling out of control, slipping closer and closer to a cliff’s edge, terrified to fall off.

Images Dan didn’t want to see were forcing their way into his head: flashes of Phil’s viewers turning on Phil, horrified to find out that their sweet and innocent role-model was actually a monster; Dan’s own audience boycotting his album because they were angry about his apparent homophobic views; and worst of all, his and Phil’s relationship crumbling under the stress of being outed in the worst way possible. It was all playing over and over in his head, like a horror movie he couldn’t escape from.

It was all just too much. Dan let himself go. He let himself wallow in the misery of all of the horrible images, let bout after bout of tears seize control, let his breathing turn into panicked hyperventilating.

Dan’s sobs were so loud that he didn’t even hear the chime of the lift arriving. It wasn’t until he heard Louise’s angry, loud screeches that he realized she’d arrived

“What did that boy do to you?” Louise venomously shouted from the foyer. “I swear I will get his address out of you and kick his arse!”

Fierce footsteps raced down the hallway, loud even over the sound of his tears. Dan didn’t unwind his arms from around his legs, though, and he didn’t look up from his knees. He sniffled harshly in an effort to be able to breath through his nose again, and tried to wipe the freshest bout of tears off his cheeks. It didn’t particularly work — his sleeves were so saturated that he suspected he was just rubbing snot and tears around his face. Not to mention, the little studs were probably rubbing his cheeks _raw_ , but he didn’t care.

He couldn’t even feel it.

“Dan?” Louise’s voice was quieter this time, anger giving way to something else. Something almost... frightened. Dan didn’t get like this often — he hadn’t had a breakdown like this in years. Not since his last serious depressive episode. She’d put up with his _shit_ so many times already, and he felt bad for making her do it _again_. 

Dan could tell she was right behind him now, even before her hand lightly petted his hair. Another powerful sob tore at Dan’s soul, choking him. He was so _relieved_ that Louise was here, so desperate for comfort.

“Here, love,” she whispered softly, her motherly voice filled with concern. “Let’s get you onto the sofa.” Her voice was gentle, quiet enough to not startle him. It was the voice she _always_ used when he was like this, the voice she’d learned was the least likely to send him spiraling into another wave of tears.

Two warm hands ran down Dan’s shoulders, hiking under his arms and pulling him up. The weight of his own body was too much, and he collapsed backwards against Louise’s chest. She was shorter than him, yes, but she had that superhero quality that all mums seemed to possess and she caught him anyway.

“This way, love, this way,” she murmured. Her hands wrapped around his waist, and she guided him across the lounge to the sofa. A loud _crunch_ drowned out Dan’s labored breaths for a split second as one of them stepped on a piece of glass. Dan winced, ashamed at how poor of a job he’d done picking up the pieces.

If Louise noticed the noise — and she had to have, she wasn’t deaf — she didn’t say anything. “Shhh, it’s gonna be okay, bear,” Louise cooed as she gently nudged him down, immediately sitting next to him. Dan didn’t waste any time before turning into her, curling up into her side and tucking his face into the crook of her neck. His knees followed suit, drawing up between their bodies, falling against Louise’s stomach.

The maternal warmth of Louise made everything a little bit more bearable. Violent sobs were still disrupting his breath, making it difficult to _think_ , but the small bit of comfort that Louise could offer lessened the edge of the pain. There was still a knife twisting in Dan’s heart, but at least he was with his best friend now.

Louise had witnessed enough of Dan’s breakdowns over the years, watched Dan suffer through his worst spells of depression, that she knew exactly what to do. One arm wrapped around Dan’s legs, pulling them closer. Her other hand weaved its way into his hair and calmingly stroked his curls. Except for the occasional sympathetic noise, Louise was quiet and gave Dan the space to safely fall apart.

All of the — minimal — effort that Dan had put into clearing his nose and drying his cheeks was undone in a matter of minutes. He couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t reign in his anguish, and he let himself _not try_. Dan felt things deeply, both good and bad, and he needed to let himself _feel_ before he could begin to move on. His sobs caught in his throat again, forcing him to let out a loud gagging noise; Dan just buried his head into Louise’s shoulder even further.

For a while, Louise just let him be. Like every crisis that had preceded tonight’s, she didn’t seem to mind the fact that Dan was crying all over her jumper — a jumper that was actually merch from his last tour, now that Dan was looking a little closer. 

Violent hiccups punctuated Dan’s cries and his breath was coming in shallow, sharp bursts. He ran his eyes over the shiny black letters on the matte black fabric of Louise’s jumper, trying to use the familiar pattern to ground himself.

It worked, at least a little. It took a long while and a lot of conscious effort, but slowly Dan’s breathing slowed to a normal pace, and the sobs turned into a slow trickle of tears.

It wasn’t until Dan had calmed down that Louise finally spoke.

“What did he do?” Louise pressed softly.

Dan froze, his breath coming to a resounding _halt_. Earlier, he’d only barely registered that Louise had accused Phil of doing this to him. And he’d been too upset to rectify her assumption. Logically, he could see why Louise had jumped to that conclusion. She knew they’d gone on a date tonight, and Phil was presumably the only person Dan had seen all evening. 

Still, the thought of Phil _ever_ hurting Dan like this, causing him anywhere _near_ this amount of pain, would have been laughable if Dan was in a different state of mind. 

“N-not P-phil,” Dan stuttered into Louise’s shoulder. His voice cracked, but he wasn’t sure if it was the residual effects of crying for so long or a fresh onslaught of agony at this point. Everything hurt, and he was having trouble differentiating the pain. 

Beneath his head, Dan felt Louise’s shoulders tense, her hand freezing in his hair. 

Dan waited with bated breath for Louise to respond. Tonight hadn’t been his fault — he hadn’t _asked_ to see Isabella. But still, he felt _guilty_. He felt like he should have been able to avoid this somehow.

But then again, Dan always felt responsible for the most terrible things in his life. The lingering effects of depression, years of episodes that waxed and waned, screamed at him, telling him that he was the one in the wrong.

“Who did this to you, then?” Louise demanded, voice tight, wary. 

Like she already had a guess at who it might be.

Dan opened his mouth. He tried to answer, he really did. The words wouldn’t come, though. He couldn’t bring himself to say her name out loud. Couldn’t bring himself to actually say the horrors that she’d threatened him with.

The word got caught in his throat and he choked, the attempt turning into another mangled sob. Apparently he wasn’t done crying yet. Louise seemed to abandon her quest for answers, her hand resuming its comforting movements through his hair, her other arm using Dan’s knees as leverage to pull him even closer.

“I-zz-zz-zz-y,” Dan confirmed, barely louder than a whisper. The word came out in half a dozen syllables, his voice shaking and cracking as he tried to speak through his renewed crying.

“I thought you weren’t planning to see her again. Like, ever.” Louise stated — not accusatory. Just... confused.

“I w-wasn’t.” Dan nodded, his head clumsily bumping into her chin. “I didn’t _want_ to see her tonight. I don’t ever want to see her a- _fucking_ -gain, if I can help it.”

Patiently, comfortingly, Louise twirled her fingers through his curls. She hummed quietly, but didn’t otherwise comment, even though Dan could tell that the latter half of what he’d said had piqued her interest. 

Dan took a deep breath, and then another one. As much as he wanted to revel in Louise’s warm cuddles and comforting words, he knew those weren’t going to fix anything — which is what he really needed right now. And if he wanted to find a solution, he’d have to actually _tell_ Louise about the problem first. 

Shakily, Dan started to explain.

“She was he-here when I got back from my date with Phil,” he muttered, his voice cracking against his will. His head was still buried in Louise’s shoulder — a safe, comforting space he wasn’t planning to leave anytime soon. “Said we needed to t-talk. So I let her up.”

Louise’s entire body sunk as she sighed deeply. “I told you you should’ve gotten a restraining order.” Her words didn’t have the smug bite that _I told you so_ often carried; she was merely resigned. Sad. _Disappointed_. 

The image of what might have happened if Isabella was kicked out of his building, if she had _no_ way to get in touch with him, flashed through Dan’s mind. As horrific as things were right now, Dan had a feeling that would have been downright disastrous. It probably would have ended with him getting blindsided by Plan B: Homophobic Gay Cheater. 

“I t-think that w-w-would’ve only made t-things worse,” Dan lamented, forcing himself to sit up a little straighter. Dan shook his head to get the image out of his mind, and did his best pull himself _together_ , dammit.

Louise grumbled something indignantly, too quiet and slurred for Dan to make sense of. But he’d known her since they were _children_ — in diapers almost. He didn’t need to _hear_ what she’d said to know that Louise didn’t believe Dan when he said that a restraining order would make this worse. 

She didn’t believe him _yet_ , anyway.

Dan took a deep breath and summoned every bit of determination and resolve he had. Saying the words would be hard, and he needed every _single_ iota of strength he had to get through it. “She’s got a meeting at Tatler the day after tomorrow,” Dan blurted out bluntly, not sure where else to begin. 

The gentle ministrations on Dan’s shins came to a halt, and the hand that had been threaded in his hair fell to the sofa like a dead weight. “That doesn’t sound good,” Louise grumbled skeptically.

“It’s worse than _not good_ ,” Dan groaned. “She wants attention and fame, and apparently she’ll go to extreme lengths to get it.” Long nails scraped uncomfortably at his ankles as he nervously fidgeted with the hem of his pants. 

“ _How_ extreme?” Louise asked warily. She started to shift away, began to turn to face Dan properly like she wanted to get all of the facts and address the situation head-on, but Dan clung tightly, not letting her move; he wasn’t ready for that. He needed his best friend for a little longer. Right now, he didn’t need his manager to swoop in and try to fix this. He just needed Louise to keep holding him. 

Dan tilted his head to look up at Louise, a pleading, vulnerable glint in his eyes. “Can you just… promise to be my best friend for a few more minutes before you jump into manager mode?”

Louise’s eyes rapidly flickered back and forth between Dan’s, searching his face for _something_. “You’re worrying me, Dan.” Her voice was tight and flat. 

Dan shot Louise a desperate look. “Promise,” he begged.

“Okay, okay. Friend first manager second,” Louise relented, pacifying him. “Like we said from the beginning,” she added quietly, sounding more reassuring this time. Lightly, she squeezed Dan’s knee and pressed a light kiss to the top of his head. Her hand started delicately thumbing across his knee again, the touch light enough to convey her hesitancy, but it was there all the same.

“Thanks, Lou,” Dan whispered with a small, sad smile. Relief flooded through Dan’s veins, even if it was just momentary. For at least a few more minutes, he’d be allowed to be broken, to not have to deal with the problem. 

He felt defenseless against everything, unsafe and helpless, so he shuffled back into Louise, tucking his head back into her shoulder. At least here, he felt a little less vulnerable, a little more protected.

“She came to make me an offer,” Dan murmured after a moment. A deep, pervasive hopelessness resonated through his entire body, his voice melancholic, his posture crumpled. 

“What does _Isabella_ have to offer you?” Louise asked, the normal volume of her voice sounding loud in comparison to Dan’s soft whispers.It was so abruptly loud, and Dan was so buried in his head, that he actually _flinched_. 

Dan took a deep breath, forcing his limbs to relax again. “She offered to pretend to be my girlfriend.” Dan kept his voice low. It was almost like it wouldn’t be real if he said it quietly enough. “You know, out in public or whatever.”

“She wants to do _what_?” Louise cried, shocked. Against the crown of his head, Dan could feel Louise’s jaw dropping open. 

“According to her, we both win.” Dan sighed deeply, his breath blowing the strings of Louise’s jumper around. “I get people to stop shipping me with Phil and speculating about my sexuality, and she gets… well, she gets more attention from the media again.” Dan’s voice _cracked_ on the last word, betraying the amount of sheer _hurt_ that the whole idea was causing him. 

“And how do _you_ feel about that?” Louise sounded cautious, like she was carefully monitoring her tone. From his current position, Dan couldn’t see her face, but he was willing to bet that it was steadfastly neutral as well. 

“I think it’s a massive horse load of _shit_ ,” Dan spat, anger and bitterness seeping into his voice. Tears burned at his eyes, spilling hot trails down his cheeks. He tipped his head to the side, moving so that his cheek was resting on Louise’s shoulder, and his eyes caught on the papers on the table. 

“But I might have no choice,” Dan added in a small voice. Defeat washed over him, so all-consuming that he couldn’t think past his own agony. The weight of that contract, his doomed future, was crushing him. Breathing was difficult, he couldn’t keep the distraught thoughts from pelting his mind.

“Of course you have a choice!” Louise insisted, her loud voice _yanking_ Dan from his heartbroken headspace. “If the shipping and the speculating is bothering you that much, we can find a different way to stop it.”

“No!” Dan protested. “It’s not that!” he added, shaking his head with more vehemence than was probably necessary. His head bumped into Louise’s shoulder and chin over and over again, but she didn’t complain. Brows furrowed, Dan tried to sort through his feelings about the shipping he’d seen on twitter and tumblr — and the article on Buzzfeed that had compiled some of his and Phil’s flirtier interactions. 

It was less painful to think about — but then again, _anything_ would be less painful to think about than Isabella and her offer. But Dan was surprised by how _much_ less painful it was. It was almost… pleasant. 

Some of the tumblr posts he’d seen that had been squealing over his and Phil’s interactions made him feel warm inside. And, okay, fine, he’d admit to saving a drawing that someone had done based on the picture he’d posted with Phil at the bar back in February. Overall, the fans’ reactions to him and Phil had just made him feel… loved.

“Honestly,” Dan started tentatively as he searched for the right words. “I mind all of it a lot less than I thought I would.” The words were shocking, but as soon as he’d said them, he realized they were true. He _knew_ that Louise — and probably everyone else who knew him well — had been expecting him to take the shipping poorly, to freak out about all the tweets and tumblr posts. But the more Dan thought about it, the more he listened to his gut, the more he felt… at peace.

Resolved in his feelings, Dan carried on more confidently. “It would have been different two years ago, and probably would _still_ be different if my audience wasn’t _so_ queer friendly. But as it is now, I’m not freaking out or anything. Surprisingly.”

Louise twisted her head to look at him, one hand cupping under his chin and making him look up at her. She studied him carefully, like she was looking for something — _what_ , Dan wasn’t sure. 

“You’re sure?” she pushed, doubt creeping into her tone. “You’re sure it’s not just the honeymoon phase with Phil making you feel okay about it?”

For a long minute, Dan stared back at Louise, chewing through what she’d said. _Was_ he just okay with the shipping because he was with Phil? He was torn — part of him _knew_ that Phil had something to do with it, but it didn’t… it didn’t seem like it was because it was all _new_ and _fresh_. It was something… something _bigger_. 

Dan shrugged and dismissively cocked his head, effectively freeing himself from Louise’s gentle grip. Moving his head back to its perch on her shoulder, Dan mulled over Louise’s question. His gut had an answer, but his head couldn’t quite make sense of it yet. It took him several long minutes to figure out what it meant, to place _why_ it had something to do with Phil.

The room was silent as Dan sorted through his feelings. Louise was so quiet and patient that Dan would have been worried she’d fallen asleep if he didn’t know her better. After years and years of friendship, Louise had a knack for knowing when to talk and when to stay quiet.

“I think…” Dan finally, _finally_ , began, trailing off as he tried to come up with the right words to articulate his thoughts. Louise hummed quietly, just enough to show she was still listening, but not enough to derail Dan. With a deep breath, he continued. “I think it’d be different if it wasn’t _Phil_ people were shipping me with.” 

Dan ran his thumb back and forth against the studs on his jumper. He shuffled up a bit, leaning into the back of the sofa instead of Louise. What was probably a lovesick smile creeped onto his face as the memories of the night before washed over him. 

“But it _is_ Phil, and, _god_ , we had the most amazing romantic date tonight,” he gushed. His eyes fluttered closed, and he let himself remember how beautiful Phil had looked in the red glow of the lanterns, how soft Phil’s hand had been on his knee, how perfect the view — of both London and Phil — had been. Prying his eyes open, Dan forced himself to focus. “The kind we can’t have very often if I’m _single_ and actively _trying_ to stay in the closet.” Dan shrugged, his eyes falling to his lap bashfully. “But as the night went on and we relaxed into it… I don’t think I want to give those kind of dates up.”

Sheepishly, Dan shifted his gaze back up to Louise and offered her a small, timid smile. He was met with a confused looking Louise — a stark contrast to the soft, happy look he’d expected to find.

She was looking at him questioningly, head cocked to the side. Her lips were pursed, her eyebrows slightly furrowed. “What are you saying?” she asked slowly. 

Dan’s restless fingers shifted down the ankles of his trousers that were still tucked up against her side. The material was softer between his fingers, much less harsh than the studs had been. 

“This thing with Phil feels like the _real deal_ ,” Dan mumbled. _This_ wasn’t the conversation he’d meant to have right now. They’d already had it — or, at least, they’d had something _like_ it. Although Dan supposed the weight of it all was more now that he was actually _dating_ Phil. 

Regardless, Dan let himself fall into the conversation, let himself be consumed by his happy lovestruck emotions for just a moment.

“The _real deal_ , huh?” There was a teasing lilt in Louise’s voice, a lilt that ever so slightly helped lighten the mood, at least for a moment.

“Shut _up_ ,” Dan pouted, burying his face in his hands. Hours of tears had left his cheeks damp and sticky, and Dan quickly wiped his palms off on his trousers. “I already told you that.”

“And it’s still bloody precious,” Louise cooed. One hand reached up to pinch his cheek lightly. 

“This is abuse,” Dan whined, swatting her hand away from his face.

“You’re a big baby,” Louise retorted. 

Indignantly, Dan crossed his arms and pouted, only further proving her point. The joking faded, and the worry that had been plaguing Dan crept back. His hands fell from their playful defensive stance to his lap, and he started picking at the skin around his thumbnail. 

Peeking up, Dan’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Phil’s the _real deal_ and I don’t want to hide it away like some dirty little secret,” Dan confessed. And, _fuck_ , that was it. That was _exactly_ why Dan was so repulsed at the idea of pretending to date Isabella again. Sure, he didn’t want her in his life anymore, he didn’t want to keep having to interact with her. But — but _hiding Phil_ was exactly why he was so repulsed by her proposal.

“You want to give this thing with Phil a proper shot, then,” Louise asked, nudging her thigh against Dan’s legs for emphasis.

“Yeah, I really do,” Dan confided. “And in order to do that, I need the freedom to spend time with him, and she’s literally got a term that prevents me from spending too much time in public with him.”

“A _term_?” Louise cried incredulously. Dan could see her fighting to keep her composure, but absolute _shock_ was taking over. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

With a disgruntled huff — at the situation, not Louise — Dan leaned over for the papers so that he didn’t have to _explain_ , knocking Louise’s hands off his knee — the last vestiges of comfort falling away. That was fine, though. His mood was shifting, anger brewing in his stomach, and he was needing _comfort_ less and less by the second.

“She had a lawyer write up a fucking _contract_ , Lou.” Dan swiped one of the contracts off the coffee table, the one that _hadn’t_ fallen in the lube on accident — he didn’t want to _scar_ Louise. “I swear to god, the last term talks about how much and where I can be seen with Phil.” Dan sounded biting, even to his own ears. He could only imagine how he sounded to Louise.

“Can I see that?” Louise asked. Her voice was tight, anger seeping in at the edges, but somehow she still sounded calm. At least mostly. Her actions were a bit less restrained, though; she was already taking the paper from Dan’s hands before he could answer.

Louise’s eyes skimmed over the first page, a deep wrinkle between her brows and a scowl on her face.

“The terms are on the next page,” Dan clarified, reaching out and turning the page for her. Honestly, he still didn’t know what was on the first page — he hadn’t read it yet and wasn’t sure he had any intentions to. Not if he could find a way out of this hellish situation, anyway.

“Bloody hell, this is _long_ ,” Louise murmured when she saw the next page.

She wasn’t wrong. The terms took up the full page, single space, in small font. 

“I know. Read it though,” Dan demanded. Fury was flaring up in him, slowly taking over the agony that had been controlling him for ages now. “Please,” he added, a bit more softly. “I can’t… I can’t do this. And I need you to understand how bad doing it would be.”

Louise looked up from the papers. “Maybe I haven’t been clear enough, love, but I already agree you shouldn’t do this. I don’t need to read the terms to know that.”

Dan closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. When he opened them, Louise was staring at him, a look of concern on her face. “You haven’t heard the alternative, though.” Dan’s voice was pained from just _thinking_ about it. “Just… just read the terms, first, okay?” 

Another wave of emotion was threatening to crash over Dan, but he wasn’t sure if it was more anger or a resurgence of sadness that was brewing. Maybe both. 

Louise cast him a sidelong look, as if she’d _very_ much like to push Dan on what he meant by _the alternative_ , but she looked back down at the contract all the same. As she began to read over the page, her eyes grew bigger and bigger, her jaw slowly dropping open.

“Two dates a week?” Louise balked, looking horrified. “Tom and I don’t even do that! Who has time for two _proper dates_ every single week?”

“ _Plus_ work events,” Dan emphasized with a groan. 

“Wait,” Louise stopped, shocked. “She wants to force you to go to _her_ work events, too?” Louise glanced up at Dan, a look of pure astonishment on her face. “And what’s this about bringing a famous friend?”

“Phil doesn’t count, apparently.” Dan rolled his eyes, leaning back into Louise’s side. “I think she was pretending to imply that youtube isn’t a real career, but _fucking hell_ , he’s doing better than her. He has several million more followers than her — on every platform — _and_ he has his own weekly radio show,” Dan ranted, anger taking hold. He rolled his eyes, bringing himself back to the topic at hand. “I mean, she definitely believes youtube doesn’t count, but I think what she really meant was that she didn’t want me bringing my boyfriend.”

A stunned silence seized the room before Louise’s eyes snapped over to him, a smile spreading on her face despite the ludicrousness of the contract she was holding. Her hand dropped, the paper wilting in her grip. 

“Boyfriend?” she asked hopefully.

The reminder of his and Phil’s conversation earlier that night, the casual and subtle acknowledgement of what they were to each other, overshadowed the hellscape that was the current situation with Isabella for another brief moment. A hot blush spread up Dan’s neck, warming his skin all the way to the tips of his ears. “Yeah,” Dan agreed, nodding sheepishly, a silly, self-satisfied grin taking over his face. “Boyfriend. Like, officially.”

The soft grin on Louise’s face turned into a full, beaming smile. “I’m happy for you, bear. You deserve this.”

Dan’s blush darkened. “Thanks, Lou.” 

His gaze fell to his lap again, his mind focusing on his _perfect_ moment with Phil earlier — well, objectively, it was probably a very awkward way for them to establish a label, but it was so, _so_ them and Dan was a little bit in love with it. His thoughts spiralled, thinking through the night, landing back on the part where he got home and found Isabella.

The sadness, the hopelessness, the _anger_ all came crashing back. His face hardened, his tone turned dark. “If we can’t figure out how to fix this, though, I’m afraid it’s going to be ruined.” 

Louise’s eyes traced over Dan’s face, taking in his sad, weak attempt at a smile and pessimistic words, looking puzzled. “What’s wrong with just saying no?” 

Dan snatched the paper out of Louise’s hand, and turned to the last page. “She thought of something to make sure that didn’t happen,” Dan snapped caustically. Hands shaking with barely-restrained rage, Dan held out the packet, bottom lip tugged tightly between his teeth, probably turning white from how fiercely he was biting it. It was all that was keeping him from losing his _goddamn shit_ right now.

Hesitantly, Louise held her hand out for the contract, her gaze lingering on Dan’s for a moment before drifting back to the paper. 

“Breaches of contract?” Louise read off, her voice raising into a confused question at the end. 

Dan scoffed bitterly, his eyes dramatically rolling and head shaking. “Just a fancy word for blackmail. If I don’t agree, or if I _do_ agree and don’t play along well enough, she’ll sell that story instead.”

Louise’s eyebrows shot up in shock. Slowly, laborously, her eyes drifted back down to the paper.

With the exception of a few gasps and quiet murmurs of _oh my gosh_ , Louise was silent as her eyes flitted across the page, slowly reading Isabella’s tight, pretty handwriting. It seemed so innocuous, so dainty, that if Dan didn’t know the contents of it, he’d almost think it was a love letter.

“This is slander,” Louise finally mumbled when she got to the bottom of the page. “She can’t do this!” Louise said louder, addressing Dan this time. “You could sue her! For a million different reasons. She signed an NDA!” Her voice had gone high pitched and squeaky, outraged by Isabella’s audacity.

“Oh don’t worry, she already thought of that, too.” Dan’s voice was sour. Facetious. _Angry_. “She promised she’d take it to court, that she wouldn’t be quiet about the trial. And as she pointed out, suing her for telling everyone I’m gay, homophobic, _and_ that I ‘cheated’ on her—” Dan rolled his eyes again “—would just look like confirmation for her story.”

Eyes growing wide, Louise’s face fell. Dan could see the plans she was forming melt away, could see the exact moment she realized just how _fucked_ everything was. 

“What a _bitch_ ,” she muttered. Both the word and the tone were out of character for Louise, and Dan could tell she was fucking _livid_. Her shoulders were tense, hunched up closer to her chin than normal. A deep crevice had formed between her eyebrows, her lips pursed so tightly they were going white. 

“We can get you out of this. I don’t know how, but we can,” Louise assured him. Her words spilled out fast, high pitched, like she was trying to convince herself just as much as Dan. She was shifting from _best friend_ to _manager_. And at this point, Dan couldn’t really blame her.

Dan was tempted to slump back into her, to force her back into the roll of friend, to wring out a little more comfort from her before he had to fucking deal with this. That wasn’t going to solve anything, though, and now that the hard part was out of the way — muddling through an explanation of the situation — Dan was ready to make a decision.

Louise’s insistence that they’d find a way out of it helped some. For hours, Dan had been freaking out, had convinced himself that he’d have to pick one or the other — ruin his image or have a beard. But for the first time all night, Dan felt a glimmer of hope. And he was _determined_ to find a third option.

“Yeah…” Dan said skeptically. An anxious rhythm filled the room as Dan tapped his fingers against his arm, his nails clacking against the studs of his sweater. His mind sorted through potential possibilities — none of them fully formed ideas, but all possibilities nonetheless. “Yeah, okay,” he said more confidently.

Grabbing the other contract off the table, Dan scanned over it, hoping that reading and rereading it would give him _some_ brilliant idea. He’d been in such a state of shock when Isabella was originally reading him the terms, that he’d missed some of the more ludicrous nuanced details she’d included. 

She’d actually _written out_ what did and didn’t count as a date, and given terms for when dates could happen. There was an entire _paragraph_ about their _social media behavior_ — and, further down, rules he was just now noticing that described his allowed social media behavior with Phil.

Every aspect of his life would be controlled if he signed this contract. The irony of it wasn’t lost on Dan. He’d nearly lost his chance at having a record deal because he’d been _so firm_ about having a contract that granted him almost complete freedom. And now he was faced with the strictest contract he’d ever seen in his _life_. 

Stubbornly, Dan turned to the last page — a page that was slightly crinkled and stiff because of the dried lube — and forced himself to read over the story with a clear head. This time, he tried to think about the story critically, tried to look for loopholes or ways he could spin it so that it wasn’t career ending.

Louise was opened to the same page, too, presumably doing the same thing. 

“She wants to control me,” Dan muttered bitterly. “I don’t even let the fucking _record label_ do that, and they’re _paying me_.”

“You don’t even let _me_ do that, and I’m your manager.” Louise chuckled, “Every time I’ve told you not to do something, you’ve just gone and done it behind my back like the headstrong idiot you are.”

A sudden, crashing wave of realization hit Dan, inspiration seeping into his every bone, warming his heart and bringing life back into his eyes.

“Oh my god,” Dan breathed. “Louise! Louise that’s it!” 

Dan dropped the paper and turned excitedly to Louise, his face lighting up with genuine _hope_. “I’ve never had any issue doing the opposite of what you tell me, so why can’t I just do that with her?” Dan stared at Louise, mouth agape, as he waited for her reaction — waited for her to tell her how bloody _brilliant_ he was.

Instead, her head tipped to the side and her eyebrows knitted together again. “I don’t think I get what you’re saying, Dan.” Her words were slow, like she was still trying to work through what Dan had said.

Dan shifted so that he was sitting on his calves. “The only thing she has to force me to do this is blackmail about Phil and my sexuality.” He bounced in place, nervous and excited, eager to make Louise _understand_. “So, like, what if she _didn’t_ have that anymore? What if I just stripped her of that power?”

“Oka _ayy_ ,” Louise said, nodding slowly. “I’m listening. What are you thinking?”

Dan’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, his mouth quirking up into the hint of a smile. Childish, smug glee was overtaking his anger, and he let himself give into it. “If I come out before she has her meeting at Tatler, she won’t have a story to tell either way.”

Louise was silent, just for a second, and then her jaw _dropped_ and her eyes grew wide. “Holy shit, you’re right!” Louise exclaimed. Her brows furrowed a split second later, her excitement twisting into concern. “Wait, but are you ready for that? That’s a really big step Dan.”

Dan shuffled a bit, sitting up even straighter. He ran his hand through his tangled curls, fluffing up the hair on the back of his head. “Yeah, I actually think I am. It’s like I said years ago, if it happens before I’m ready, we respond gracefully and don’t deny it.”

“Right, but we were talking about someone _else_ outing you when we agreed on that.” Louise tipped her head pointedly, her lower lip tightly tucked between her teeth. 

Dan shook his head, staring incredulously at Louise. “Well I’m sure as shit not going to respond gracefully to being called a homophobic gay cheater, so I’d rather just do it my way.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. Vaguely, he was aware that he probably looked like a petulant child, but. Well. He’d be petulant if he wanted to be.

Louise nodded, more confidently this time. “If you’re sure, then you know I’ll support you. I do think it’s a good solution.”

Dan dropped his arms, his posture already relaxing now that Louise had agreed. “I’m sure. One hundred percent sure.” Even Dan was surprised by how certain, how _fearless_ , he sounded.

“Alright then,” Louise said, resolved. Her voiced shifted, suddenly carrying a more professional, formal tone. “I’ll call Tatler in the morning. We can set up an interview for tomorrow afternoon and ask them to run a piece about you coming out instead. I’m sure they would appreciate not being sued for slander, anway.”

“No!” Dan cried vehemently, shooting down Louise’s idea with far more vigor than either of them had probably anticipated. He understood Louise’s thought process, he really did — Tatler was where his mind had gone initially, too. But it only took him a split second of thinking about it, of thinking about _Dan Howell Comes Out As Bi-Sexual_ as a headline to know that that wasn’t what he wanted.

There had to be _some_ other option.

Louise arched an eyebrow, silently waiting for him to continue. 

“I — it’s dumb that — it shouldn’t —” Dan struggled to find the words to express the feeling of distaste forming in his gut. He sighed deeply, collecting his thoughts, before starting over. “I don’t want my sexuality — my _coming out_ — to be some money making ploy for a magazine.”

“I understand, but —” Louise tried to pacify him, but Dan cut her off before she could continue.

“No, you _don’t_ understand.” Dan interrupted tersely. He didn’t mean to sound bitter and upset with Louise, but there was no way that she, as a cishet woman, could possibly understand his feelings right now. “My _sexuality_ isn’t a way to make fucking money. It’s who I am. I don’t want some shitty magazine exploiting _me_.”

“Okay, but —” Louise tried again. Dan wasn’t having it, though.

“ _No_!” he repeated, more forcefully this time. “Being bi or gay or queer or _whatever_ isn’t a product, it isn’t a story. It’s a part of who we are — who _I_ am. _It’s not for sale_ ,” Dan disputed vehemently, leaving no room for argument.

“Dan, I love you,” Louise started, sounding _just_ this side of patronizing — a tone that gnawed at the fringes of Dan’s nerves. “And I agree. I promise, I do,” Louise assured him emphatically. Dan opened his mouth, about to interrupt her _again_ , but she held up a hand to silence him. Complying, Dan snapped his mouth shut again, waving a hand for her to continue.

“You’re fighting against a girl who has no morals, and a magazine who has even less,” Louise stated bluntly. “Now’s not the moment for nobility. So long as there’s a story to tell, Tatler’s going to run _something_. It’s either yours, or hers.”

“ _Exactly!_ ” Dan burst out. “ _So long as there’s a story to tell_ ,” he emphasized, bouncing in place again. “So I’ll take the story from their hands. _I_ come out on my own, _I_ tell whatever version I want of things with Phil.”

“I told you,” Louise sighed, exasperated and rolling her eyes. “I’m sure Tatler will run the story you want to tell.”

“No, let me finish.” Dan huffed, annoyed that Louise wasn’t immediately understanding him and on board with his plan. “I’ve got my own audience, right? I’ve got nearly eight _million_ followers.” Dan’s voice was growing louder and louder, more and more confident, as he explained himself. The more he talked, the more he realized that this idea really could _work_. “I don’t _need_ a shitty gossip magazine to give me exposure to talk. I’ll talk on my own fucking platforms.”

Louise’s face melted, her lips gently parting, her chin jutting forward. “ _Oh_ ,” she gasped as realization finally sunk in. Slowly, her lips pulled up into a smile, her eyes crinkling from how wide she was grinning. “You’re right. You _don’t_ need them.” 

With a note of finality, Dan chucked the contract on the table, ripping Louise’s out of her hand and tossing it away, too. The papers knocked into the bottle of lube — the bottle that was still _open_ — and knocked it over. Dan watched the bottle teeter precariously, before finally tipping over. Red tinted, viscous liquid oozed out of the bottle, slowly seeping on to the contracts and thoroughly ruining them.

 _God_ , he would fucking _kill_ to see Isabella’s face if she could see that her precious little contracts where covered in the cherry lube that Phil had used to finger Dan’s _arse_ earlier that night.

“Great,” Dan nodded with a note of finality. He tore his eyes away from the destroyed papers and looked back at Louise. “Let’s figure this out then.”

Her eyes were trained on the contracts, too, a smirk on her face. “How do you want to do it?” She asked, shifting her attention back to Dan. “Twitter, or instagram?” 

Dan chewed his lips and tapped his fingers against his knees as he thought about the pros and cons of each. He had more followers on twitter, but he’d have more space — literally — to say what he felt like he needed to on instagram.

He hadn’t figured out what he was going to say, yet, but he knew it would take more than 280 characters. 

“What if I post something on instagram, and then share it to twitter? So I do both?” Dan asked tentatively, hoping Louise would like his idea. 

Louise nodded enthusiastically, her smile softening into something more encouraging rather than smug. “That’s perfect. What are you going to say? Are you going to mention Phil? Is he going to care?” Questions — questions that Dan didn’t have answers to — spilled out of Louise’s mouth rapidly. 

Dan wracked his brain for answers, searching for the best way to say everything he wanted to without writing a million word post. Beside him, Louise was quiet, giving him the space to think and not pushing him to answer her questions immediately.

He wanted to make it clear that he was bisexual — _not_ gay. He didn’t want there to be room for people to say his past relationships with girls had just been cover-ups. And he sort of _did_ want to mention Phil, at least round-aboutly. If he _just_ came out without acknowledging Phil, Isabella would still have the power to say he’d cheated on her. It needed to be _painfully_ obvious that this thing he had, this relationship with Phil — or whoever — was _new_. That way, if Isabella _did_ try to claim that he’d cheated on her, he’d already _shown_ something different.

Eyes drifting around the room, Dan mentally drafted post after post, each one seeming more wordy and dramatic than the last. None of it felt right, though. None of it felt like _him_. 

His coffee table was a mess, Dan noted dully. The lube bottle was tipped over, probably almost empty by now. The puddle had been almost entirely soaked up by the contracts, at least, the papers having turned a faint red. If Louise hadn’t noticed the lube before it’d spilled, she _certainly_ had to have now — and probably the stain on the back of his sofa too. 

Frankly, Dan was shocked she hadn’t teased him about it — or at least begged him for _some_ details about what had happened. Once this was all said and done, he probably wouldn’t be able to live it down and he’d have to spill the whole story and give her every last juicy detail (or at least those that he was willing to share). But if everything else tonight turned out okay, that was a small price that Dan was willing to pay.

Safely on the other end of the table was his lyric notebook, opened to the page he’d abandoned it on earlier that night. Absently, Dan scanned the page, taking in how messy the draft looked now that he’d rewritten the second verse. The original lyrics — the ones he’d written when he was still lusting after Phil — were scribbled out, and new lyrics — lyrics focusing on what it was like to _have_ Phil — were haphazardly written around the old lines. There were some spots where he failed to get the new lyrics right the first time, meaning there were _two_ incorrect versions scratched out. 

He liked it though, he liked the fact that this page showed the evolution of wanting Phil, to having him. It felt like it properly summed up the whole album, and expressed his feelings for Phil.

Holy _shit_ , that was it.

Without explaining himself to Louise, Dan sprang off the sofa and tore out of the room. 

“Dan?” Louise called after him, confusion and concern lacing her voice.

He didn’t answer her, though. Dan didn’t have the time or the sense to try to explain himself right now. Instead, he stalked over to the hallway closet and ripped out the tin of markers he kept on hand for Darcy. 

Rushing back to the lounge, Dan carelessly dumped them out on the coffee table — on the end _opposite_ of the lube. 

The room was already enough of a mess, it wasn’t like the markers would make a difference. 

Dan searched for pink, purple, and blue markers — the closest things he could find to the _bi pride_ colors. The lyrics he’d picked to use for his coming out post weren’t going to make it explicitly clear Dan was bi, not _gay_ , so he was going to have to improvise a bit. When he’d found the best options from the mismatched twenty-four packs of Asda markers, Dan pulled his lyric notebook towards him and scanned for the part of the ballad that he’d written tonight.

Much to his relief, there were _exactly_ ten lines that he wanted to include in the picture. With the pink marker, Dan highlighted the first four lines. It made his handwriting a little harder to read, but not impossible. Dan glanced at the other two markers he’d selected; the purple and the blue were darker. If Dan used them, it would probably make the words completely illegible. 

From the sofa, Louise’s eyes were tracking his every movement, but she didn’t say anything. Dan took that as a good sign, a sign of silent approval, and pushed forward with his plan.

Deciding to sacrifice some of the authenticity he’d been aiming for, Dan turned back to the pile of markers and found a lighter purple and a lighter blue so they wouldn’t completely obscure the song lyrics. Happy with his new selections, Dan highlighted the next two lines with the light purple, and the last four with the light blue. 

His lyrics — his new, _masculine_ _oriented_ lyrics that were sure to have outed him at some point anyway — were now a proud bi-themed rainbow, and Dan loved it. It was somehow both dramatic and flamboyant, while also subtle and not too aggressive at the same time. 

It was perfect. Happiness blossomed in Dan’s stomach, spreading like honey through his body, warming his soul.

Pleased with the effect, Dan arranged the notebook on the floor (he _really_ didn’t want his coffee table in the background) and snapped a picture of the page. Going against his normal habit of taking a _hundred_ pictures, Dan settled for the first one and opened it in instagram. He carefully cropped the photo so that only the highlighted lyrics were in the picture, and tinkered with the filters, settling on one that made the dark scratches of his handwriting pop against the bright colors.

The photo looked great, and Dan smiled at it. But his happiness froze as he realized that taking a nice picture was the _easy_ part. He had no _fucking clue_ what the hell he should write. Dan stared down at the picture, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth as he tried to figure out what to caption the photo.

He felt so much pressure to close every loophole Isabella had, but at the same time, he wanted it to sound like _him_ , for it to sound authentic and not coerced. And Dan _needed_ it to be clear that he liked boys and girls — that’s what the colors were for. But perhaps using some pronouns in the caption wouldn’t hurt either. Just to _really_ drill home the fact that he liked boys, as well.

And the cheating — that story needed to be ripped from Izzy’s hands, too. He needed to make it clear that him and Phil hadn’t been fucking all along. 

He typed and deleted, typed at deleted, trying to find the right balance of what to say. It was nearly three am and his brain wasn’t working very clearly anymore, but he had to do this _right_. 

Finally, Dan was satisfied. Without running it by Louise, Dan clicked _post_ , toggling the buttons to share to tumblr and twitter as well. 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/159411142@N05/44730024681/in/dateposted-public/)

Dan refreshed his feed to make sure it had posted correctly before tossing his phone to Louise. She was ready for it, her hands already held out expectantly. She turned the phone around to face her, not commenting on the cracked glass as her eyes slowly scanned down the screen. Dan watched as her lips started to pull up in a grin.

“It’s _perfect_ , bear. I love it.” Louise’s voice was soft, and she looking genuinely _proud_. “You know I have to email the post to Tatler, though, right? Just to make sure they see it before they meet with Isabella?”

Dan nodded quickly, his hand automatically reaching back out for his phone. “I don’t care, so long as I got to do this.” 

The screen was still lit up when Louise passed his phone back, and Dan broke his number one rule for interacting with the internet — _don’t stare and wait for replies._

Against his better judgement, he refreshed and refreshed and refreshed his notifications, toggling back and forth between instagram and twitter. He watched the replies pour in, watched people freak out — mostly in a good, gay-key-smash style — about the bi colors. He watched people speculate, and he watched people tag Phil in their hunches.

Fuck. _Phil_.

Dan had known, he’d _known_ there was a risk that people would assume the guy in Dan’s post was Phil. Hell, he’d _played_ on it. He’d needed people to know that he started dating someone — a _male_ someone — tonight. 

In all of the fluster, though, he hadn’t exactly given a lot of consideration to Phil’s reaction to his post. It was the right thing to do, sure. Whatever he’d implied in his post was a million times better than what Isabella might have explicitly said if he didn’t.

But still, poor Phil was going to wake up to a thousand notifications and no context.

Would Phil mind? Would Phil scroll through his twitter feed and be _pissed_ that Dan had sort of just confirmed that they were in a relationship — or at least, that Dan was in a relationship with someone? Their fans weren’t idiots, clearly. They were already forming the connection. 

Maybe he would, but surely he wouldn’t care once Dan told him about how things _could_ have gone. And maybe if Phil saw Dan’s post first, if he saw how _vague_ Dan had been about the guy he was dating, Phil would mind a little less.

With a resigned sigh, Dan swiped open his conversation with Phil, skimming the messages he’d neglected to read earlier.

 **Phil [11:12PM]:** I’m home, I had a wonderful time tonight :)

 **Phil [11:28PM]:** Now that I’m home, I kind of wish I’d just come over though :(

 **Phil [11:36PM]:** that was super clingy sorry

 **Phil [12:14AM]:** maybe you fell asleep, night dan xx

Dan’s eyes focused on the little _xx_ at the end of Phil’s message, and _god_ he wished that his night had gone differently. He wished that he could have answered Phil’s second message, maybe re-invited him to come over. He wished that he could have responded before Phil had started to doubt himself, before Phil could worry that he’d come on too strong. 

He wished that he could have answered Phil’s call and fallen asleep talking to him.

Really, he wished that the night had gone _any_ other way other than it had. 

But also, now that Dan was out — well and truly _out_ — he was also feeling a bit of relief, a bit of _hope_ for what this could mean for him and Phil. 

Nonetheless, guilt pooled in Dan’s stomach, and he opted to just ignore Phil’s messages, typing out one of his own.

 **Dan [3:31 AM]:** before you look at your twitter and instagram and whatever notifications, you should probably look at my instagram

As soon as the message had been sent, Dan worried his lip between his teeth, staring down at the little _delivered_ message. He almost _wished_ for the little _read_ notification to pop up, for Phil to still be awake for some reason. 

It was a masochistic wish, though. Dan knew he couldn’t emotionally handle talking to Phil about any of this tonight, wouldn’t be able to explain himself. He read and reread his message, and after what must have been the twentieth read-through, sent a second one.

 **Dan [3:34AM]:** and we should probably talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ like and reblog on tumblr ](http://imnotinclinedtomaturity.tumblr.com/post/178168032460/love-yourself-chapter-26)  
>  \---
> 
> the lyrics, if you can't read the picture well enough (song credit: troye sivan, my my my, [ acousticversion ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEsK9GudV2M)  
> ):
> 
> _~~so close, but not mine~~ spark up, ~~shaved sides~~ buzz cut_
> 
> _~~wish i could hold you close tonight~~ i've got my tongue ~~in your mouth~~ between your teeth_
> 
> _~~i’d kiss you, you’d kiss me~~ go slow ~~don’t stop~~ no. no. go fast_
> 
> _~~i wonder what you taste like~~ you like it just as much as me_
> 
> _~~wish we’d~~ (now let's) stop running from love_
> 
> _running from love_
> 
> _~~please be~~ (let's stop) my baby_
> 
> _~~wish we’d~~ (let's stop) running from us_
> 
> _running from us_
> 
> _~~wish we’d~~ (let's stop) my baby_
> 
> the majority of this album is being written thanks to one person. this is the song that started the whole concept of this album and i think it deserves a bit of an update after he took me out on the best first date of my life tonight. he might not have agreed with the timing of when i decided to rewrite it, though ;) xx


	27. 27 (8775)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone for being the best audience i could hope for. i appreciate how patient y'all have been, how understanding you've been that i needed time time off because of Adulthood and Mental Health. i'm not feeling particularly articulate right now, but know that i love and appreciate you all. back to our regularly scheduled programming now! updates should come every 1.5 weeks-ish again :)
> 
> also, a massive thanks to @auroraphilealis as always, not just for editing, but also for being a great best friend and a wonderful cheerleader. ily xx

Loud, persistent buzzing pulled Phil sharply from his sleep. It took a few sleepy seconds before he registered that the buzzing was his phone on his bedside table — and it was apparently ringing. Still half asleep, Phil waited until it stopped vibrating before reaching for it. It was too damn early to _actually_ talk to anyone, but curiosity was still getting the best of him.

He pried an eye open and looked at the screen, instinctively flinching away from the bright light. Without his glasses, he was too blind to see who had called, but he could just barely make out the time — half past seven.

Nearly an _hour_ before his alarm was due to go off.

That was nearly an _hour_ of sleep that someone was trying to take from Phil. And after the whirlwind of last night’s date, Phil wanted nothing more than to sleep in. It wasn’t like Dan was here to give him a _reason_ to get up.

With a stubborn, tired sigh, Phil rolled back into his pillow. Whoever had called could wait — at least until he was ready to get out of bed.

 _Just_ as he was drifting off again, though, his phone rang again. Grumbling, Phil pushed himself onto his elbows and held his phone close enough to his face that he could _just barely_ make out PJ’s name. 

PJ? Why was _PJ_ calling him? PJ rarely _called_ Phil. They skyped, sure, but those calls were usually scheduled and were _always_ in the evening. 

No, if PJ was caling at this hour, he must _need_ something. And, unfortunately, Phil prided himself on being the Reliable Friend who always answered when his friends needed him. 

Reluctantly, Phil swiped on PJ’s name, immediately putting the call on speaker so that he could fall back into his pillow.

“What the hell do you want, Peej?” Phil grumbled as soon as the phone call connected. 

“Did I wake you up?”

“It’s not even eight in the morning,” Phil complained. “Of course you woke me up.”

“Mmm,” PJ hummed dismissively. “Are you with Dan?”

“No, I dropped him off after our date last night.” Phil stretched slightly, his hands reaching up under the pillow and hugging it closer to his face. 

“Oh… have you, er, talked to him since?” PJ didn’t sound curious, and didn’t sound like he was trying to get information out of Phil about his date. PJ sounded… worried.

Growing concerned by PJ’s tone, Phil pushed himself back onto his elbows. “No, why? What happened?”

“I take it you haven’t been on the internet yet?”

“No. Get to the point, Peej,” Phil huffed impatiently.

“Dan — well, I thought maybe he’d’ve talked it over with you. I mean, twitter’s — fuck, how —“ 

“What the fuck happened?” Phil demanded, cutting off PJ’s rambling. 

Even through the phone, and on speaker, Phil could hear PJ’s deep sigh, could _feel_ his hesitation, before he finally spoke. “You need to look at Dan’s instagram. He sort of… made a big announcement in the dead of night.” 

Phil felt a wave of dread wash over him. He certainly wasn’t sleepy anymore. A jumble of incoherent, panicked thoughts were battering at Phil’s brain, but he did his best to push them aside. Worrying wouldn’t do any good right now.

“Hang on, I’m pulling it up.”

Phil hit the home button on his phone with a bit more force than necessary, and was finally confronted with a frankly obscene amount of notifications given that he hadn’t _done_ anything online since the day before yesterday, really. With a concerned huff, Phil swiped his glasses off his night table and shoved them onto his nose, the red dots on his iphone icons coming into focus.

Four hundred and twelve notifications from instagram.

One thousand, two hundred, and ninety from twitter.

Six emails in his work-only account.

And seven text messages.

Despite PJ’s urging to look at Dan’s instagram, Phil opened his messages first. There were three from PJ, which Phil ignored since Peej had clearly gotten ahold of him. Below PJ’s thread, there was a message from his mother and brother each. And _finally_ below them were two messages from Dan.

The preview of their conversation showed that Dan’s most recent text — _and we should probably talk_ — had come in at 3:34AM. That message alone made Phil’s heart pound against his chest. 

“You there, mate?” PJ asked.

“Yeah,” Phil confirmed with a strangled gulp. “He texted me.”

“Oh?” PJ sounded interested. 

Phil didn’t respond. He didn’t open the text. He didn’t breath. He didn’t do much of anything, really. He was frozen, trying to process what _we should talk_ might mean, trying to convince himself it didn’t mean something _horrible_. 

“Well?” PJ prompted when the silence drew on for too long. “What’d he say?” 

“Right,” Phil mumbled as he forced himself to click on Dan’s message, to see what his previous message said. To see if it could make senseof whatever the _fuck_ seemed to be happening this morning. 

Phil’s eyes skimmed over his own _four_ messages — he’d somehow blocked out the fact that he’d _quadruple_ - _texted_ Dan last night — before reading what Dan had said. 

**Dan [3:31 AM]:** before you look at your twitter and instagram and whatever notifications, you should probably look at my instagram

 **Dan [3:34AM]:** and we should probably talk

Together, the two messages did absolutely _nothing_ to quell Phil’s anxiety. In fact, Phil’s heart was just thumping _louder_ and more aggressively. 

“He just said to look at his instagram.” Phil swallowed roughly. “And that we should talk.”

A quiet hum was PJ’s only response — another thing that didn’t help to calm the panic in Phil’s veins. Phil didn’t like the thoughts racing around his head, didn’t like that the first place his mind had gone was Isabella — and Dan getting back together with her. 

Not that Phil _really_ thought that was a risk, but still. The insecure part of his brain liked to remind him that Dan’s last partner had been a _model_ , even if she was a bitch.

With a steeling breath, Phil tapped on the instagram icon. 

It seemed to take a million and one years for the app to load, and when it finally did, it opened to a picture his brother had posted of his girlfriend. 

Not helpful. 

Not wanting to waste time scrolling through his feed, Phil tapped the magnifying glass. Dan’s name was at the top of his recent searches, a small “one new post” written below his username. 

Quickly, but shaking with apprehension, Phil clicked on Dan’s profile. 

It seemed to take forever for the page to load, but when it did, the first thing Phil saw was a picture of Dan’s scribbly handwriting, made all the more difficult to read by messy highlighting. 

For a second, Phil was annoyed at the highlights, frustrated that Dan had obscured his writing even further than his nearly-illegible handwriting. But then the colors of the highlights sunk in — pink, purple, blue. 

They were the bi-pride colors. 

Phil knew, obviously, and he was certain Dan’s audience would know that, too.

By this point, Phil knew Dan well enough to know that Dan didn’t do _anything_ unintentionally. Not in his music, not on social media, and not in real life. If he’d gone out of his way to highlight whatever he’d written and posted — well, the colors of the highlights were deliberate.

Phil bypassed the words in the picture and flickered down to the caption, hoping for a quick and easy explanation. 

_the majority of this album is being written thanks to one person. this is the song that started the whole concept of this album and i think it deserves a bit of an update after he took me out on the best first date of my life tonight. he might not have agreed with the timing of when i decided to rewrite it, though ;) xx_

“Oh shit,” Phil muttered, dumbfounded, when the gravity of Dan’s caption finally sunk in. 

“Yeah…” PJ murmured, his voice carefully neutral. 

Phil glanced back up to the picture and scanned over Dan’s messy handwriting as fast as he could. From what Phil could tell, it looked like it was, well, about _him_. If the caption didn’t convince him, the _let’s stop running from love_ and the fact that Dan confessed to _rewriting_ something because of Phil last night… 

“He came out,” Phil mumbled, unnecessarily pointing out the obvious. 

“And took you with him, mate,” PJ grumbled. 

Phil cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowing as he read and reread Dan’s post, trying to pinpoint what PJ was referencing. Nowhere did it mention his name or even anything _identifying_. The most telling piece of information was the _he_ — but that pronoun could apply to a large portion of the world.

“How do’ya figure?” Phil asked. 

“Mate, you and Dan haven’t been very subtle. Look at twitter.” 

Even without opening twitter, Phil knew what PJ meant. Him and Dan had been, well, _flirting_ for weeks now. There really wasn’t any other way to describe their online banter. 

But upon skimming through his twitter notifications, Phil realized just _how_ confident their audience was as they jumped to the albeit somewhat obvious conclusion. 

Tweet after tweet had responded to Dan’s instagram post, all tagging Phil, all speculating on exactly who the _he_ in Dan’s post could be. 

And every tweet Phil saw guessed it was him. 

And every tweet Phil saw was right. 

“They all know anyway,” Phil mumbled flatly. He was supposed to be feeling something right now — surely he was. His boyfriend had just come out, his entire audience was — correctly — guessing that he was in a relationship with a famous singer, his own mum had probably texted him about it. And yet, Phil couldn’t wrap his mind around what he was _feeling_. 

He just felt… surprised. 

“Yeah. Are you okay with that?” PJ asked gently.

“I…” Phil tried to process all of the _new new new_ as fast as he could. “I guess it was never _that_ secret that I liked guys. I mean, how many times have I mentioned finding male celebrities attractive?” 

“That’s true,” PJ agreed. “But I also know that hinting and confirming are two different things.” 

“I mean… yeah,” Phil finally relented. 

“But you didn’t know Dan was going to do this?” 

“No…” Phil chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought through all of the conversations him and Dan had had about their public image. “He made it sound like he didn’t want to come out at all.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t know,” Phil responded tersely. 

_He should know._

“Do you think he wants people to know that _you’re_ the guy?” PJ pushed.

“I don’t know!” Phil snapped

_He **really** should know._

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line.“Sorry,” PJ muttered, clearing his voice before he spoke again. “What do _you_ want?”

“I… don’t know,” Phil finished lamely.

_Turns out he didn’t know much of anything._

“Do you wanna talk about it?” PJ offered softly.

“I…” Phil tried to think about it, he really did, but his mind kept coming back to _why why why_. At the end of their date, Dan had pulled Phil into the bloody _loo_ to kiss goodnight, presumably because Dan hadn’t wanted the waitstaff to see, and then just a few hours later, Dan had gone and done _that_. “I need to talk to Dan. To know what the fuck happened.”

“That’s fair,” PJ agreed. “Can I do anything to help?”

“No, I’m just… gonna call him.” Phil pushed his glasses onto his head and roughly rubbed his face — an attempt to both wake up and alleviate some stress. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Ring if you need me, okay? And let me know how it goes.”

“I will. I’ll text you later,” Phil promised. “Bye Peej.” 

Needing to cancel his ten o’clock meeting with his manager, Phil opened his work email to send off some excuse, only to find that Marianne had already emailed him. Along with _three_ people from the BBC. And every _single_ subject line contained the name _Daniel Howell_. 

How the _hell_ had all of these people been up and about and reacting to social media already?

Phil ignored the multiple emails from the BBC, but opened the one from Marianne. He skimmed through the message, where she basically just pointed out what he already knew — that his audience had drawn some pretty big conclusions based on something Dan had posted. At the end of her email, she suggested they “review possible responses” during their meeting that morning.

Not fucking likely, Phil scoffed.

Quickly, Phil typed out the most adult version of _sorry for the late notice, but I need to cancel our meeting because my brand-new boyfriend went off the walls in the middle of the night and I have no idea what’s happening_. He didn’t bother to read it over again — now wasn’t the moment for _proofreading_ — and immediately dialed Dan as soon as the email was sent.

The phone didn’t ring though, and instead went straight to voicemail. “Dammit Dan,” Phil mumbled in aggravation, hanging up before Dan’s voicemail could start recording. 

Chewing on his lower lip, Phil thought through his options. If Dan’s phone was off, then no amount of texting or calling or facetiming would do any good. It was frustrating to have no way to contact Dan after he’d dropped such a massive bomb. 

Except, well, that wasn’t quite true, was it?

Dan _had_ put Phil on his permanent visitors list, so theoretically Phil could just… show up. Which might be a _bit_ of a rash move but…

But nothing. 

Phil was confused and caught off guard and felt like he deserved an explanation. Despite the early hour, Phil threw off his blue and green check comforter and pushed himself out of bed with steadfast resolution.

He wanted an explanation and, goddammit he’d get an explanation.

On shaky, tired feet, Phil riffled through his drawers for suitable trousers while kicking off his emoji pajamas. No human being — especially not his fashiony, hot new _boyfriend_ — needed to see him in those. The first somewhat acceptable option Phil’s hand landed on were a pair of rather tight joggers, but he couldn’t be arsed to care at that moment. They’d have to do. 

He kicked all the way out of his embarrassing, yellow pajamas and pulled on the tight sweatpants in their place. His loose Friends shirt would have to do, because he didn’t feel like wasting the time to find a suitable replacement, and it wasn’t _that_ awful of a shirt.

Phil’s hair was probably a right mess too, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with that either at the moment. All in all, this was definitely the least effort he’d ever put into his appearance when he knew he was going to see Dan, but he was growing impatient. Doing anything other than pulling on a jacket and shoes felt like it would waste too much time. 

Even the three minute wait for the uber felt like too much time, and Phil had to refrain from just starting to walk over when he got downstairs and the car wasn’t there yet. But the car arrived before Phil could do anything rash, and Phil climbed in with only the briefest of smiles to the driver. His five star rating might take a hit, but he didn’t particularly care at that moment. 

On the drive to Dan’s flat, the impatience in Phil’s stomach grew into something… more desperate. The more time he spent longing for an answer, the more he felt like he should already _have_ one — like he should have known about what Dan was doing _before_ he’d done it. And of course, _of course_ , it was Dan’s decision if he wanted to come out — and hell, Phil was downright _ecstatic_ for him — but Phil couldn’t help feeling like…

Feeling like _he_ should have been part of the decision if Dan was going to so nearly pull Phil out of the closet, too. 

Not that Phil was _hiding_ in the closet, persay. But as PJ had pointed out, there was a big difference between hinting and confirming, and what Dan had just done was suddenly pushing Phil to _confirm_. And _that_ Phil couldn’t quite wrap his head around.

He wasn’t against it. Not quite. But — _fuck_. He really would have liked to have been a part of the decision.

The process of getting into Dan’s building was the easiest yet, this time. All Phil had to do was tell the doorman his name and that he was there to see Dan before he was getting ushered into the lift, the _seven_ button already pressed for him. 

The ride up to Dan’s apartment felt shorter than normal — so short that Phil didn’t have time to collect his courage and figure out exactly what he wanted to say. When the doors opened to Dan’s flat, Phil hovered uncertainly in the lift, suddenly worried that it was incredibly rude to just invite himself over to Dan’s flat. Maybe Dan’s phone had gone straight to voicemail because he’d turned it off so he could sleep. Maybe Dan wasn’t ready to tell Phil about what he’d done.

But no, that wasn’t quite right. Dan _had_ texted Phil, had told Phil to look at his instagram and had even said that they needed to talk. So it wasn’t _absurd_ that he was here, now. 

The lift doors started closing, the sudden movement pulling Phil harshly out of his spiral of anxious thoughts. Phil’s body, for once, was a step ahead of his mind, because his arm flew out to catch the door before he processed what was happening. He hurried out of the lift and into the foyer before the door could start to close again.

Dan _had_ put Phil on his permanent visitors list. This was fine. It wasn’t _insane_ that Phil was here right now. 

Determined, Phil pushed his way further into the flat, walking quietly towards Dan’s room. He only made it as far as the lounge, though, before he ran _smack_ into someone.

Someone much shorter than him or Dan.

“Phil?” 

Surprised, Phil’s eyes scanned down and he took in the young woman standing in front of him — he certainly hadn’t been expecting anyone else to be here, and now he really was feeling like just _coming over_ might have been a dick move. 

“Louise?” he asked tentatively, nearly positive that he recognized her from Dan’s instagram and pictures he’d shown him of Darcy and her mum.

“Yes!” Louise greeted, her voice hushed. “I’m glad it’s you, when I heard the lift ding I thought —” She cut herself off, glancing back over her shoulder into the lounge. “Well, nevermind. Tea?”

“Oh, er…” Phil glanced over her head, his eyes drifting back towards Dan’s room. As much as he knew that Louise was _definitely_ someone that he should be trying to make a good impression on, Phil _really_ didn’t want to sit down for a cuppa right now. His mind was still reeling from the whirlwind of this morning, and he could barely think straight, much less talk coherently to a stranger.

But regardless, he knew how important Louise was to Dan — and how much Louise’s opinion mattered to him — so Phil pushed back the swirling confusion muddling his head and forced himself to smile pleasantly. “I might just look for Dan if you don’t mind.” Anxiously, Phil rubbed the back of his neck and hoped that his smile wasn’t coming out too much like a grimace.

Louise’s eyes flicked behind her. Her tense shoulders and skeptical eyes gave Phil the feeling that she wasn’t sure if him seeking Dan out was a good idea. “He’s asleep at the moment,” she said, pursing her lips and staring at Phil thoughtfully, like she was trying to figure him out. “You sure I can’t interest you in tea? He’ll probably be asleep a while.”

“I…” Phil’s eyes darted around as he searched for an excuse out of socializing. Much to his dismay, he couldn’t easily find one. He opened and closed his mouth as he desperately tried to find a polite way out of making small talk with Louise — this certainly wasn’t the first impression he wanted to make on Dan’s best friend.

“I’m not really up for tea, right now,” Phil blurted out abruptly, settling on the truth and cringing at his bluntness. Phil shifted his gaze down to his feet, unable to continue meeting her eye. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “This morning’s just been a lot already, and…” 

Louise sighed, and shot Phil an unsure look. Phil watched as her arms came up, and she crossed them over her chest. “Dan had a late night last night.”

“I know,” Phil admitted, anxiously shifting back and forth on his feet. “But I need to talk to him.” 

“And you can wait until he wakes up,” Louise said with an air of finality, her arms still crossed in front of her.

Phil sighed and tugged on his sloppy quiff, aggravated — not quite at _Louise_ , just more at… the situation in general. His phone felt heavy in his pocket, and he was hyper aware of all of the emails and texts that he needed to respond to.

Emails and texts that he didn’t know _how_ to respond to because Dan hadn’t _fucking talked to him_.

“Look,” Phil said, keeping his voice as steady and calm as he could. “I kind of woke up to a PR nightmare this morning and —”

“Oh god, are you not out?” Louise interrupted, her eyes growing wide in panic.

“I — mostly,” Phil hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. The _being out_ thing wasn’t exactly his main problem here. “Never in crystal clear words, but it was out there.” Phil shrugged that particular concern off. “But, like, I hadn’t told my manager — or even my _mum_ — that I was dating Dan yet, and now they definitely both know because they aren’t _idiots_.” Phil gestured around wildly, his arms trying to convey how absolutely _insane_ the situation was so that he didn’t end up shouting, despite his frustration. “I’m not sure who’s going to be more upset about not knowing. And I can’t even respond to them, because I have _no idea_ what to say because I have _no idea_ what the _fuck_ happened. We haven’t even discussed if we want our relationship to be public or how to handle the media or _anything_!”

Phil’s arms fell to his sides, limp and useless, as his rant came to a sudden, frustrated end.

His little tantrum must have done some good, though, because Louise looked a bit more empathetic now.

“I get it,” she sighed, sounding resigned. “I’m a manager. And a mum.” 

“Thanks,” Phil smiled tersely. “So then you won’t mind if I…?” he gestured vaguely over Louise’s shoulder.

Her eyes traced over him slowly, carefully appraising him. “Fine,” she relented after a minute. “Just… try not to be too hard on him, okay? I’m sure he’ll be in a touchy mood when he wakes up.” Despite her understanding words, Louise still looked wary. 

Phil wondered how many stories of hot-tempered, passionate fights Louise had heard over the last year.

“I promise I won’t be a — I won’t be like Isabella,” Phil offered, hoping that the heavy, sincere weight of his voice would convince Louise that he was _different_. 

Louise’s eyes grew wide, her jaw falling open just a hair — she looked surprised, but maybe also a bit… pleased? The tenseness in her shoulders melted — at least some — and she looked less wary. The assurance that not only he _knew_ about Isabella, but was also determined to be _different_ seemed to matter to Louise.

“Good. Because you’ll have me to report to if you hurt him,” Louise threatened, but there was a humorous glint in her eye and a hint of a smile ghosting her lips. 

“I won’t hurt him, but that’s a deal.” Phil smiled weakly with an emphatic nod. “So is it okay if I…?” Phil pointed vaguely over Louise’s shoulder, trying to ask her to let him by as gently as possible.

Louise nodded, stepping around Phil towards the foyer. “Yeah, I’m going to nip out then. Tell Dan to text me at some point today, and be _nice_.”

Phil was tempted to make a sarcastic comment, but didn’t want to risk Louise’s trust. He couldn’t help feeling like he was on a very short leash as it was right now. “I promise I won’t even scream or anything, okay?”

“Good,” Louise said with a smile before heading for the lift. Just before she got to the foyer, she spun around to face Phil again. “Good luck with your mum. And manager.”

“Thanks,” Phil laughed with a genuine smile. “I think I’ll need it.”

Phil waited for the _ding_ of the lift, wanting to make sure Louise was well gone before he sought out Dan, before gathering his courage and carrying on down the hallway. For a split second, he hesitated outside of the closed bedroom door, not _completely_ certain that it was acceptable for him to just burst into Dan’s room and wake him up.

But the memory of the literal _thousands_ of notifications was fresh in Phil’s head, so he pushed open the bedroom door anyway.

The bed, however, was neatly made, and there was no Dan in sight. 

_Weird_. Louise had _definitely_ said that Dan was still asleep. Maybe the guest bedroom?

Confused, Phil stepped backwards and turned back down the hallway, peeking his head into the next room. No Dan in that bed, either.

Phil couldn’t imagine that Dan would be in the music room, and he wasn’t sure where else to look other than the lounge. Phil made his way back, tentatively looking around the lounge entrance before entering. 

Curled up on the sofa, still in his tight studded sweater from the night before, was Dan. Despite Phil’s confusion and anxiety, his heart melted. Dan’s hair — and the entire lounge, now that Phil was really looking — was a complete wreck. 

There was glass on the floor, both large chunks and shattered shards, that Phil had to navigate around on his way to the sofa. The table — which Phil was accustomed to seeing in a pristine state — was _covered_ in papers and — oh god was that the _lube?_ — on one end. Dan’s notebook was open on the floor, surrounded by a hodge podge of markers. Phil had to bite back the urge to flip through it, to see what else Dan was working on, to pry just a little.

That wasn’t what was important right now, though. Phil turned his back on the mess and properly took in Dan’s lanky body curled up tight on the sofa.

Looking more carefully, Phil’s eyes lingered on where Dan’s trousers were riding down, a soft pale patch of stomach poking out. Dan’s hands were cradled near his face, and his phone was dangling from his fingertips. Phil hovered above Dan, rocking back and forth between his feet as he tried to decide if he really should wake Dan up. 

Phil _knew_ Dan had been up late — close to four, at least, and that was assuming he’d gone to sleep straight after texting Phil. Letting Dan sleep a little longer was definitely the nice, selfless thing to do.

But Phil was too anxious and desperate for answers to be selfless right now.

Before Phil could lose his nerve, he reached out and poked Dan’s shoulder. 

The poke, however, didn’t seem to be enough to rouse Dan from his sleep. “Dan?” Phil tried, his fingers rubbing into Dan’s bicep a bit harder. “Babe? Wake up?”

“Mmmh,” Dan grumbled. Even in his sleep, Dan seemed reluctant to be roused.

“Please babe? I really need to talk to you,” Phil pleaded. He switched tactics and grabbed ahold of Dan’s shoulder, gently shaking until Dan started stirring. 

“Louise?” Dan mumbled, nearly incoherent, without opening his eyes. “Wha’ d’ya want?”

“No, it’s Phil,” Phil corrected.

“Oh.” Dan’s eyes fluttered open, slowly drifting upwards to meet Phil’s. 

They were red. Much redder than they normally were when Dan woke up. 

The rawness of Dan’s eyes, and the way he rubbed at them, made Phil wonder just _how_ late of a night Dan and Louise had had. 

Blearily, Dan’s gaze fell from Phil’s, scanning the room before landing on his phone. Without saying anything else to Phil, he tapped the home button, only to sigh when it wouldn’t come on. “What time s’it?” Dan asked blearily.

“About eight thirty,” Phil guessed without actually checking a clock.

Dan nodded, his eyes drifting back to his phone. “Hang on,” he said, “Lemme plug this s’in ‘nd get some coffee.” Dan pushed up off the sofa, stretching slightly and making his sweater ride up even further. “Want some?” he asked, eyes bleary as he glanced at Phil before turning to leave.

Phil’s brows furrowed, bewildered that Dan was so casually offering him coffee. 

As if nothing major had happened since they’d last seen each other.

“Wait—” Phil said as he reached out and caught Dan by the wrist, preventing him from going anywhere. “Are you not even going to acknowledge it?” he asked, annoyance starting to creep into his voice.

Dan raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. 

Phil blinked back rapidly, baffled by Dan’s lack of… well, _anything_.

“Oh come on, don’t play dumb,” Phil groaned, irritated. Dan’s eyes grew wide and he held Phil’s gaze for a fleeting moment before flickering off to the side. In the brief seconds that Dan had looked at him, Phil could see entire _pools_ of emotions — emotions that he wasn’t quite sure what to make of. There was sleepiness, but there was also worry and… something else.

Something that Phil really wished Dan would just _share_ with him.

“Your texts? Instagram? The internet?” Phil prompted, his voice growing more and more pointed with each suggestion when Dan didn’t say anything.

Dan ran his free hand through his hair, grabbing at the ends of his curls and tugging. His eyes drifted back to Phil’s, and he stepped minutely backwards, his hand nearly coming out of Phil’s grip. “I know, _I know,”_ Dan finally sighed, sounding defeated “I just really need some fucking coffee first. I had a long night.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a long morning,” Phil countered; his fingers wrapped more tightly around Dan’s arm, his nails insistently digging into the soft underside of Dan’s wrist.

Dan flinched back, his hand yanking backwards out of Phil’s grip and curling protectively against his chest. “I suppose that’s my doing, then?” he asked meekly as he stared down at the space between them. 

Phil shot Dan an unamused look, not that Dan was looking up to see it. A part of him was itching to reach out and _force_ Dan to look up at him, but Dan didn’t look like he’d be okay with Phil touching him just now. “No, I _normally_ wake up to thousands of notifications after a nice quiet day away from social media,” Phil quipped, unable to keep a sarcastic edge out of his voice.

Dan’s eyes clamped shut, and he drew in a sharp breath. His arms shifted to cross in front of his chest, his entire body crumpling in on itself. “Just… hang on,” Dan begged softly without looking at Phil. He sounded so _small_ , so young. Guilt washed over Phil — _he_ was responsible for making Dan look so vulnerable. “Let me get a cup of coffee. Please.”

Phil drew his hands back to his side, shoving them in the front pockets of his joggers as a silent promise that he wasn’t going to try to stop Dan. “Of course,” he nodded, trying his best to keep his voice soft and even. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” 

With a small shake of his head, Dan teetered away from Phil cautiously and backed out of the room without ever turning fully away. At the last second, Dan spun around, narrowly avoiding running into the doorframe as he exited the lounge. 

It was an odd reaction, one that gave Phil the sense that Dan was _afraid_ to turn his back on Phil. Self-defensive reactions like that weren’t usually natural — they were learned.

Phil swallowed thickly, suddenly wondering how deep Louise’s fears ran. Dan’s movements were shaky, guarded, and he seemed to be fighting the urge to not look over his shoulder. Not wanting to make Dan more uncomfortable, Phil trailed behind at a distance as Dan led the way.

In the kitchen, Dan went straight to start the coffee and Phil came to a rest at the opposite counter. Dan still wasn’t meeting Phil’s eyes — hell, he wasn’t even _looking up_ — but Phil could tell that Dan knew exactly where Phil was by the wide berth he gave Phil’s spot along the counter.

The entire kettle shook when Dan filled it with water; his hands were trembling, but his jaw was set, rigid. “Coffee?” Dan murmured without glancing over.

“Sure,” Phil accepted quietly. He made an effort to keep his voice as soft and gentle as he could. “Milk —”

“And two sugars, same as your tea. I know,” Dan interrupted quietly. If something weren’t so clearly _wrong_ with Dan’s behavior right now, Phil would have been touched that Dan knew how he took his coffee. Instead, Phil was hyper-focused on Dan’s shaky movements and watched carefully as Dan rummaged through the cupboards, finally pulling out a ceramic soup bowl that was nearly mug-like and — _oh_. Phil had forgotten that Dan only had one functioning mug. 

Because Isabella smashed the rest. In a fight. A fight unlike any fight Phil that had ever had.

Regardless, Dan poured milk and sugar into the _proper_ mug, adding only the smallest spoonful of sugar to the makeshift mug. That was so typical _Dan_ — putting others first, always striving to make others happy. Phil’s lips twitched for a second, nearly quirking up into a smile at Dan’s persistent thoughtfulness.

Phil waited in silence for the kettle to boil, knowing that he wasn’t likely to get anything useful out of a sleepy Dan. Plus, he hoped that a bit of quiet — and space — would help calm whatever Dan’s fears were.

It felt like it took the coffee maker _ages_ to brew their coffee. Phil was growing well anxious, and Dan didn’t seem to be in much of a better state. Eventually, though, Dan was pouring two cups of coffee, passing the polka dotted mug to Phil, and hugging the soup bowl close to himself. 

Dan took a large gulp of his coffee, only lowering it a few centimeters when he was done. The mug was held up high, nearly obscuring his face, and his gaze was focused on the black liquid inside. Dan’s arms were tucked into his chest, and his shoulders hunched up. Again, Phil was struck by how _small_ Dan looked. 

“Well? Let’s hear it then,” Dan whispered without looking up.

“Hear what?” Phil asked, head cocked, confused.

“You’re mad at me, so let’s just… get the part where you yell at me or whatever over with.” Dan’s eyes flicked up, just barely landing on Phil, and looked back at his coffee so quickly that Phil would certainly have missed it if he wasn’t watching Dan so closely.

Phil’s heart plummeted into his stomach as Dan confirmed his dreaded speculations — all of _this_ , all of Dan’s current behavior, had something to do with how fights had gone in the past. Phil opened and closed his mouth, sputtering stupidly like a fish as he tried to figure out what to say. 

“I didn’t come over here to _yell_ at you,” Phil tried his best to placate his boyfriend, even though he didn’t _really_ know how. Not right now, not with this new, scared Dan.They’d only had one tiff since meeting, and then it’d blown over because Phil had dropped it. But it wasn’t a _lie_ — no matter how desperate and confused and frustrated Phil was, _yelling_ at Dan was never his intention.

“But you _are_ mad,” Dan said simply, still addressing his coffee more than Phil. 

“I’m not _mad_ , I’m… in shock, I guess.” Phil blew on his coffee, stalling for time as he grappled for a way he could express his frustrations without unnecessarily startling Dan.

“Call it whatever you want, but I can tell you’re not happy with me,” Dan mumbled.

“Okay, _fine_ ,” Phil relented, swallowing his trepediations and deciding to speak his mind. “I was shocked when I woke up to thousands of messages on my social media talking about you coming out and speculating about _us_.” Dan nodded — a microscopic, subtle movement — but didn’t say anything, so Phil continued. “And I’ll admit that I was a bit miffed when I realized that Louise was here but you didn’t even _try_ to contact me last night.” 

“Louise is my _best friend_ ,” Dan pushed back, a hint of anger in his voice.

“And I’m your _boyfriend_ now!” Phil insisted. “In order for a relationship to work, we have to communicate, Dan.”

“You’re not my fucking boss,” Dan barked. “I can talk to whoever the fuck I want to. And if you’ve got a problem with Louise, you can just leave now.” There was a harsh edge to Dan’s voice, but beneath it, Phil could just barely tell that it was shaking — shaking with _what_ , he wasn’t sure. Anger, maybe. Or fear.

“I don’t have a _problem_ with Louise,” Phil argued. “It’s just — I texted you _four bloody times_ last night. You could have talked to _me_ if you needed… I don’t know, help, or whatever.” Phil waved his hand in frustration as his words failed him.

Dan sat his mug down on the counter, a loud _clack_ filling the kitchen as the ceramic made contact with the granite countertop. “Look I just spent a fucking _year_ with someone who didn’t like Louise and hated that I went to her for stuff, and if you’re gonna be that way too, then just fuck off already,” Dan spat out harshly.

If Phil wasn’t already leaning against the opposite counter, he would have jumped back at that. As it was, his lower back dug into the counter as he recoiled from Dan’s words. 

“Don’t fucking compare me to Isabella!” Phil snapped, disgust and horror holding tight in his stomach. “I don’t give a rat’s ass that you go to your best friend instead of me sometimes, but when you end up doing something that all but _confirms_ that you and I are dating, yeah, I’d like to be a part of the decision!”

“You can’t _control_ me Phil.” Dan’s shoulders drew up impossibly closer to his ears, his voice growing high pitched. “I can’t take the time to get written permission from you every time I want to say something about my album.”

“And I’m not asking you to!” Phil retaliated. “But couldn’t you have waited, like, a _day_ so that I wasn’t completely blindsided by you basically _outing_ me when I woke up this morning?”

“No,” Dan huffed, an edge of stubbornness cutting into his defiance.

“No?” Phil asked incredulously.

“No,” Dan repeated, his voice even more forceful this time. “You couldn’t have talked me out of it.”

“I wouldn’t have tried to!” Phil exclaimed before he could process what Dan had said — before he could process that Dan seemed to think that Phil _would_ try to control him. In some ways, at least. “I get that given… your album…” Phil trailed off as he grappled for the right words, words that would capture how Dan’s album affected Phil’s life without him sounding ungrateful or overly important. 

He took a deep breath before continuing. “I get that your album is going to take away some of the privacy and control over my image that I’m used to having online, and that’s _fine_. But couldn’t this have waited, like, a _day_ so that we could talk about it first? And I could… I don’t know, tell my family we were properly dating first?”

Dan shook his head forcefully, his curls flopping down into his face. “You don’t understand Phil. There wasn’t time. It had to be _now_.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Phil huffed, his free hand lacing through his hair and pushing it further back. 

“You wouldn’t understand,” Dan snapped, his arms crossing hotly in front of his chest.

“I’m sure I would if you would stop being defensive for five seconds and actually explained yourself!” The words flew out of Phil’s mouth before he realized what he was saying. They were harsh, yes, but they were true. It felt like all Dan was doing this morning was be overly contrary for no discernible reason, and he wasn’t fucking _listening_. Phil didn’t _want_ to be angry right now, he really didn’t. It was just _hard_ when Dan was acting like this.

Dan appeared to have heard _that_ , though, if the way he flinched backwards was anything to go by. 

“Ex _cuse_ me?” Dan challenged. He sounded positively _outraged_ , his tone just this side of livid. His shoulders were shaking, and Phil could see anger flaring in his eyes.

And something else, too. Something like… hurt.

Phil put his own mug down on the counter, dragging his hands down his face in exasperation. This wasn’t the conversation — well, _fight_ , at this rate — that he’d come over here to have this morning. Phil hadn’t been wanting to argue, he’d just wanted to _understand_.

“I’m just trying to talk to you, Dan,” Phil pleaded, his voice coming out whiny and needy “I just want to know what the hell happened last night.”

“Right,” Dan laughed bitterly. “You want to know _all_ about the part where I _almost_ outed you, but you don’t seem at all concerned about the part where _I_ actually came out.”

“That was your choice!” Phil insisted, voice raised.

“No it wasn’t!” Dan bellowed back.

Phil froze, his eyes snapping up to meet Dan’s again. Dan had pushed off the counter, and crossed almost half of the kitchen. He was standing rigid, his body leaning forward, his hands in tight fists by his sides. Dan’s eyes were blown wide — he looked shocked by his own words.

Phil certainly was.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Phil asked slowly, warily. Something happened last night — something big — that much was clear. What _wasn’t_ clear, though, was why Dan hadn’t called Phil _last night_. 

They could have talked about it. Phil could have _helped_. 

“It means — it means —” Dan stuttered, before abruptly giving up. The tension melted out of Dan’s shoulders as he crumpled in on himself, retreating back to lean against his countertop. “It doesn’t mean anything. Can we just move on?”

“No we can’t bloody _move on_ ,” Phil huffed, his frustration growing. He’d passed impatient, passed needing answers; now, he was downright _desperate_. “Can you just tell me what the fuck you mean, already? What _happened_ last night?”

Phil stared at Dan with pleading eyes, silently begging him to explain what he’d meant. For a moment, Dan just stared back at Phil. A loud silence overtook the room, neither of them saying anything else. 

Finally, the tense silence was interrupted by a sharp sigh from Dan. Dan’s gaze fell from Phil’s, turning down to his own feet. An agitated hand ran through Dan’s hair, tugging on his curls.

A brief wave of relief shot through Phil, certain that he was about to get an explanation for Dan’s weird behavior. Phil pushed away from the counter, debating whether he should go to Dan, maybe tip his head up and kiss his forehead. Something small to make Dan feel more comfortable talking.

But then, Dan was crossing the kitchen in three big strides, coming to a halt _right in front_ of Phil. Bewildered, Phil searched Dan’s face, trying to figure out what the hell Dan was doing. Dan’s eyes were wild, frantic, a panicked gleam shimmering in them. His cheeks were flushed red, his mouth drawn in a tight line. He was so, so close, so afraid. 

And then he was gone.

Phil blinked rapidly, confused and unsure where Dan had disappeared to. One second he was there, and then _poof_ he was gone.

Unsure, that was, until a sudden waft of cool air washed over his upper thighs.

Phil’s attention snapped down, finding Dan again. Dan’s hands were on Phil’s joggers — joggers that he’d managed to tug down to Phil’s knees before Phil had even realized where Dan had gone. He was still tugging, trying to wrestle them over Phil’s knees now.

“Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan,” Phil gasped, his voice coming out rushed and urgent. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Dan didn’t look up at Phil. Instead, his hands abandoned Phil’s joggers, leaving them wrapped around Phil’s bony knees, and latched onto Phil’s boxers. His hands pulled insistently, _frantically_ — too frantic to be particularly effective, mercifully. 

“Dan!” Phil implored. The shock of the situation finally wore off, and Phil finally launched into motion, his hands flying out to catch Dan’s and prying them away from his hips. His boxers were awkwardly a bit low now, but Phil didn’t risk letting go of Dan’s hands — Phil was worried that Dan would just reach back to pull them all the way over his arse. “Look at me!” Phil ordered forcefully.

Slowly, painfully, Dan’s eyes drifted up and came to rest somewhere around Phil’s neck. 

Phil took a deep breath, calming himself down, before he hooked his fingers under Dan’s chin and coaxed his head the rest of the way up. “Dan, sweetheart, what are you doing?” Phil asked, careful to keep a gentle tone to his voice now that he had Dan’s attention. 

“Making the fight go away,” Dan responded. His voice was small — so, _so_ small — and he still wasn’t quite meeting Phil’s gaze. 

Phil stared blankly, his eyes trailing over Dan’s scared face, as he tried to figure out what was happening.

Suddenly, Phil was assaulted with the image of Dan covered in hickeys and scratches, embarrassed and ashamed as he admitted to Phil that they were from angry sex — angry sex that came from a fight. 

Phil’s jaw dropped.

It didn’t _shock_ Phil to know that Dan and Isabella dealt with their problems through sex, but he was a bit astonished to find the effects so lasting, to realize that Dan still seemed to think that angry sex was the proper solution to an argument, even with Phil. 

Phil shook his head forcefully — both in attempt to tell Dan _no_ , and also to shake himself out of his head and into action.

“Babe,” Phil whispered. Looking down at Dan’s vulnerable, submissive stance, Phil felt his heart breaking. Desperate to make them feel like equals again, Phil sunk down to his knees, too. He let go of Dan’s wrists, reaching up to brush back his unruly curls from his face. “Blowing me isn’t going to make the fight go away,” he whispered softly..

“Oh,” Dan muttered, voice small. His eyes trailed down between them. Phil couldn’t see his expression, but his body language spoke volumes. “It’s well and truly fucked then, huh?” 

Dan sounded so scared, so _distraught_ , that Phil wasn’t sure what to say for a moment. Dan sounded like he genuinely believed that it — _they_ — must be fucked if a _blowjob_ wasn’t going to fix their fight. 

Phil’s shock turned to horror when he saw tears leak down Dan’s face. 

“Oh, baby. No, no,” Phil cooed. His hands flew from Dan’s hair to cup his cheeks, his thumbs swiping under Dan’s eyes and smearing the tears away. “No, nothing’s fucked baby.”

Slowly, Dan tilted his head up to look at Phil. “It’s — it’s not?” he hiccupped, his voice coming out higher and more crackly than normal.

“Of course not,” Phil promised, rushed and confident. His eyes were wide in horror at the very _idea_ of them, this, _their relationship_ , being over so soon. His brows were furrowed in confusion at the idea of Dan being concerned that this was over — that _they_ were over. “But the way to make the fight go away is to tell me what’s going on, tell me what you’re thinking.” 

Dan sniffled loudly, his eyes fluttering closed again. He was quiet for a moment, with the exception of a few residual hiccups, but then he nodded slowly, his eyes still closed.

“Yeah? You’ll talk to me this time?” Phil asked hopefully.

Dan nodded again.

“Without getting defensive?” Phil prompted, half teasing, half trying to encourage Dan to act more rationally this time.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed meekly. He fell forward, Phil’s arms wrapping around and catching him on instinct. The second Phil’s arms were around Dan, Dan burrowed into him, _melting_ against his chest. Dan’s hands were smushed between them, crooked at an awkward angle, but Phil didn’t mind. 

Silence settled between them as Dan calmed down. Slowly, gently, Phil started tracing his fingers up and down Dan’s spine, his fingers catching on the studs of Dan’s sweater.

After a moment, Dan mumbled, “Can we sit down?” 

Phil pulled back and pressed a lingering kiss to Dan’s forehead. “Lead the way, sweetheart.” 

Dan minutely leaned into Phil’s lips, pushing his head into the kiss for a moment before pulling back. He pushed up to his feet, and immediately offered Phil a hand up. Dan’s gaze trailed over Phil as he climbed off the floor; Phil felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment as he remembered the state of his clothing.

“Sorry ‘bout _that_ ,” Dan muttered, his eyes meaningfully flicking down to Phil’s half drawn joggers. 

“It’s okay,” Phil murmured back softly as he stood up with Dan’s help. Phil’s spare hand flew to his joggers, pulling them back up his hips as he stood. He tried his best to swallow down his embarrassment, to make his cheeks go back to a pale white; he didn’t want to call any more attention to Dan’s rash advances than necessary. Not right now. 

For the first time that morning, Phil was thankful that he’d only been able to find the tight joggers that morning — anything looser would likely have slipped straight down Phil’s thin legs and likely made the whole situation more awkward. 

Dan dropped Phil’s hand to turn and collect their coffees from their respective countertops while Phil fixed his pants and joggers,. “Come on,” Dan muttered, cocking his head out of the room.

Phil obediently followed Dan out the kitchen and towards the lounge, nearly smashing into him when Dan came to a sudden halt in the middle of the hallway. 

“What?” Phil asked, alarmed.

Dan spun around to face Phil. “I don’t wanna be in the lounge.” His words came out rushed, his voice high. “It’s a mess.” 

“I don’t mind,” Phil assured him, “But we can go wherever you want.” Phil stepped backwards, moving closer to the wall so that Dan could navigate around him and lead them somewhere else.

“I need something from in there, though,” Dan insisted; his words were vague, but his tone was determined. He thrusted their coffees at Phil without much more of an explanation. Phil grabbed the coffees in silent shock, his fingers barely wrapping around the mugs and steadying them before Dan let go. 

“I’ll meet you in the bed,” Dan said with a note of finality.

Dan only made it a few paces down the hallway before he stopped and spun back around to face Phil. “If that’s okay, I mean,” he said quickly, his voice high and rushed. “It’ll be more comfortable than the music room and I swear I won’t, like, _try_ anything again. Like, I promise I’ll talk, I’m just really tired and I —”

“Dan,” Phil interrupted gently. “The bed’s fine. Get whatever you need. I’ll be there waiting for you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like and reblog on tumblr 


	28. 28 (8364 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks to @auroraphilealis for being a wonderful best friend, beta, and cheerleader. i always appreciate when she pushes me to write more, even if it is bits i'm too lazy to do so :)

Despite the firm grip that Phil had on the papers, they were still visibly shaking — something that he was certain Dan had probably noticed by this point. Dan had also probably noticed that Phil had been silent for a solid five minutes now. And given the fact that Dan wasn’t _blind_ , he’d also probably noticed the dumbstruck look that Phil was pretty sure was on his face.

Dan had tried explaining the content of the papers to Phil — he really had. He’d been emotional though, and the story had come out in a jumbled order. But even if it _had_ been told in a logical order, the words still wouldn’t have made any sense. It all had sounded too _insane_ to be real life. And now that Phil had been staring at the papers — the _contract_ , he mentally corrected himself, he needed to call it what it was — it only seemed _more_ ludicrous. 

The loopy handwriting and smeared black font glared up at him though, mocking him with Isabella’s ability to be fucking _next-level_ conniving, her ability to think one move ahead of Dan and Phil every step of the way.

Well, _almost_ every step of the way. 

Apparently dating Dan for nearly a _year_ wasn’t long enough for her to learn how fiercely independent and stubborn Dan was. Phil couldn’t help but find it amusing that Dan coming out first was the _one_ move — the most _Dan_ move that Phil could imagine — that Isabella hadn’t accounted for.

“Phil?” Dan asked tentatively, barely audible. His voice was quiet, so quiet that Phil probably wouldn’t have been able to hear him at all if there had been any noise in the room. “Say something? Please?” 

It was the raw begging in Dan’s voice that snapped Phil out of his thoughts enough to tear his eyes away from the papers and finally look at Dan. There was tension clinging to every single one of Dan’s muscles that Phil could see — Dan’s eyebrows were furrowed deeply, his shoulders drawn up tight to his ears, his jaw set. Dan’s back was digging into the headboard behind him, his gaze determinedly staring straight ahead. 

Dan’s entire body seemed to be on the verge of folding in on itself; it was as if the only thing stopping it from curling into a tight, protective ball was the rigidity locking him in place.

Phil gnawed on his lower lip, his gaze focused on Dan, as he took a long minute to gather his thoughts. Impatience seemed to be creeping into Dan — his fingers started to tap against his knee, and his eyes flicked over to give Phil a sidelong glance, immediately darting away again when he seemed to realize that Phil was already staring back.

“Well?” Dan pushed, his voice hard and cold, his eyes focused somewhere straight ahead again. The part of Phil that wasn’t struggling to find the right words was tempted to reach out, to lightly tug on Dan’s chin until he turned his head, desperate to know what was going on in Dan’s mind.

“I - I’m not angry about how or when or why you came out,” Phil started cautiously. He scanned Dan’s face, looking for any sign of reaction, even just the smallest flicker of emotion that might give away an _inkling_ of what Dan was thinking. “I get it. I really do.”

Dan’s head tipped back against the headboard with a loud _thunk_ , rolling to the side to finally look at Phil. “Then why do you still _seem_ pissed off?” He grumbled, not bothering to mask his aggravation.

But even from the awkward side angle, Phil could see the fear and apprehension in Dan’s eyes.

“I’m not _pissed off_ ,” Phil corrected, careful to keep his tone even and calm, even though Dan wasn’t doing the same. “I’m just —” He cut himself off, running his hands over his face in agitation. _He’d_ been the one to insist that they have a proper talk, that they tell each other what they were feeling. And that meant he really needed to find a way to articulate his current emotions. 

Before sharing the contract with Phil, Dan had been honest about how he had felt when he came out last night — even if it wasn’t all coherent — and now it was Phil’s turn.

Phil sighed again, dropping the contract off the side of the bed — it felt viscerally wrong on every level to let it touch Dan’s monochrome duvet. Phil sat up straight, spinning around to face Dan. The shift in position caused Phil’s knees to press into the length of Dan’s leg, and Phil was thrumming with the urge to rest his hand on Dan’s thigh.

So Phil did. He’d spent too many months biting back his desires around Dan, and wasn’t about to continue doing so now that he didn’t have to. He moved his hand slowly, giving Dan time to knock it out of the way if he didn’t want to be touched. Dan didn’t stop him, though, and his lips quirked up into a hint of a smile when Phil’s hand settled just above his knee.

Just as slowly, and with just as much trepidation, Dan reached his own hand out, landing on Phil’s with a feather light touch. Instinctively, Phil flipped his hand over so that their palms were touching, and intertwined their fingers. 

“You’re just _what_ , Phil?” Dan prodded, far less irritation in his voice now. He gently squeezed Phil’s hand, his eyebrows raised in genuine interest.

“I’m just… _frustrated_.” Phil finally confessed, resigning to the fact that there wasn’t any gentler of a way to put it. Beneath his hand, Phil could feel Dan’s leg tense up, and he could see the guarded fear flash back into Dan’s eyes. 

“That… doesn’t sound loads better,” Dan sighed warily. His eyes drifted away from Phil’s, landing somewhere near Phil’s left ear.

“Well, it is.” Phil said simply, unable to keep a note of amusement out of his voice. 

Dan’s gaze snapped back to Phil’s, shooting him a disgruntled look. There was a smirk pulling at Dan’s mouth, though, and the annoyance in his eyes had a contrived quality to it. “Alright. Let’s hear it then. What are you _frustrated_ with me about then?”

Another minute of silence stretched by as Phil tried to find a way to explain his thoughts that wouldn’t push Dan back onto the defensive. Dan had promised to stay rational, but Phil wasn’t convinced that Dan would manage if he felt backed into a corner.

“Come on, Phil. I can handle it,” Dan prompted, sounding defeated, when the silence had carried on for too long. “I’m sure it’s not anything that people haven’t been _frustrated_ with me about before.” Dan offered Phil a half-hearted smile, but there was a note of derision in his voice that made Phil painfully aware of how frequently Isabella had probably been properly _angry_ at Dan for stupid reasons.

Phil barrelled onwards, figuring that bumbling through imperfect words was better than letting Dan ruminate on past fights with Isabella.

“I’m _frustrated_ ,” he emphasized the word to reiterate that he didn’t mean _angry_ , “That I had to find out that you came out from _PJ_ and the _internet_. I—”

“I tried to tell you!” Dan interrupted, his voice high-pitched and defensive again.

“No,” Phil corrected calmly, despite the prickle of annoyance at Dan’s defensive behavior again. Phil’s fingers tightened around Dan’s before Dan could pull his hand away. “You texted me to look at your instagram before I checked my other notifications.”

“You were asleep!” Dan argued weakly. 

“Yeah, and if ever there was a moment to wake your boyfriend up in the middle of the night, I think it’s _hey I just came out_.”

“I — Well. Yeah,” Dan agreed lamely. “I know.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Phil asked, searching Dan’s face and still keeping his voice neutral.

Dan’s eyes fell from Phil’s, his gaze focused on their intertwined hands instead. “I was scared,” he answered in a small voice. 

“I _told_ you,” Phil huffed, not wanting to rehash the _same_ point again. They had to have gone over this at least three times already. “I wouldn’t have tried to stop you.”

Slowly, Dan looked back up to meet Phil’s gaze again. There was a glint of hesitation in his eyes, and they were a bit too wide to be normal. “No, I mean after,” Dan clarified in a low voice.

“After?” Phil repeated unintelligently, his head cocking to the side and his brows furrowing.

“Yeah. After.” Dan swallowed thickly, his spare hand ruffling his hair. “When I’d calmed down from the rush of posting and stuff… I thought of calling you then. But I was…”

Dan trailed off and fell into silence, only offering Phil a small shrug.

“Scared,” Phil supplied when it was clear that Dan wasn’t going to finish his sentence. “Scared of what, though?” he pushed, his eyebrows knitting together and his voice soft as he tried to _understand_. To make sense of why Dan was afraid of _Phil_ of all people.

“That you’d —” Dan stopped abruptly, his hand slipping out of Phil’s grasp and his legs tucking into his chest in one fluid motion. Dan protectively wrapped his arms around his shins, and hooked his chin over his knee. When he spoke, his words were addressed to the empty expanse of the duvet in front of his feet. “I guess I was scared that you wouldn’t support me. I didn’t want to hear you say that it was a bad decision.” Dan sighed, turning his head so that his cheek was on his knee and he was looking at Phil again.

Phil’s heart fell, sinking deep into his stomach. “Dan, I —” Phil cut himself off, switching gears slightly. “I _adore_ you, okay?” he continued emphatically. “I adore you so, so, so, so, _so_ much. I’ll support you no matter what you want to do.”

Dan’s mouth tipped up into a smile, his dimple squished against his knee but visible all the same. “Even if I want to scream to the internet about how happy you make me?”

“ _Especially_ if you want to scream to the internet about how happy I make you,” Phil assured him, unable to keep the happiness out of his own voice. Phil reached out and threaded his hand through Dan’s hair, offering him a small smile. “I’d support you if you said you wanted to trek across Antarctica, okay?”

Dan laughed — and it was a real, hearty chuckle without a single trace of bitterness this time. “Well, now that’s just poor judgement, Philly.” 

Phil quirked an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“Come on,” Dan scoffed. “We both know I’d _die_ if I tried to cross Antarctica. The walk from here to your flat when it’s _mildly cold_ turns me into a whiny bitch.”

This time, Phil laughed along, both of their loud giggles ripping apart the tension that had previously consumed the room. “My whiny bitch, though,” Phil teased. Letting go of Dan’s curls, Phil wrapped his arms around Dan’s shoulders and pulled him in close. Dan went willingly, letting himself be tipped into Phil’s chest, melting into Phil’s embrace. His forehead was leaning against Phil’s chest, and Phil just barely felt Dan tip his chin forward and press a light kiss to Phil’s jumper.

“I need you to communicate with me, though,” Phil continued, his voice dipping back into a serious tone. “I don’t want to find out stuff about my boyfriend from the internet _just_ because I’m dating someone properly famous.”

“I know,” Dan agreed as he pushed back out of Phil’s arm so that he was sitting upright again. His head stayed dipped down though, not lifting to look at Phil. “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to do before I do stuff next time.” Dan sounded sincere — almost _painfully_ so — and he was peeking up at Phil with overly earnest eyes; it struck Phil how _hard_ Dan was trying, how determined he seemed to be to do the right thing.

“It’s okay if you can’t always talk to me _before_ you do something — I get how interviews and liveshows and, I dunno, concerts I guess, can be.” Phil offered Dan a genuine smile, and lightly knocked their knees together in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “But tell me afterwards, before I found out from twitter or something. That way I can understand _why_ you make choices, and not just see the choice broadcasted on the internet.”

Dan nodded quietly, still looking more at his own lap than Phil. Even though his head was ducked, Phil could see that Dan was biting his lip, could tell that Dan seemed to be holding his breath. It was clear that he still had something on his mind. Phil was just about to ask when Dan continued on his own.

“You’re famous too, ya know,” Dan mumbled meekly.

“Come here, you silly boyfriend,” Phil teased fondly, hands reaching out and pulling Dan back into his chest. Dan fell forward and crashed into Phil, high pitched giggles already replacing the concerned tone. Phil trailed his fingers up and down Dan’s back as Dan settled back into Phil’s space. “I’ll tell you things too,” Phil assured Dan softly. “Social media and gossip websites won’t be a form of communication in this relationship.”

Dan giggled again. “Good, fuck the internet,” he mumbled wryly, his words tickling Phil’s chest. Phil chuckled, and dropped another light kiss to Dan’s curls.

For a moment, Phil let silence wash over them. It was a different kind of silence this time. It wasn’t the scared silence from before, nor was it the angry silence from even earlier. No, this silence was comfortable, almost settling into relaxed as time carried on.

Phil knew that Dan was probably ready for this conversation to be over, but Phil needed a _little_ bit of closure before he could completely let it go. With a deep breath, Phil gently asked, “So what have we learned?” 

“Learned?” Dan echoed, face still smushed into Phil’s chest.

“Yeah, _learned_ ,” Phil repeated insistently. “You know, from this… _fight_.” Phil grimaced even as the word came out of his mouth — he didn’t like the idea of fighting with Dan, and he didn’t like labeling what had happened with such a negative term. But that’s what this morning had been. A fight.

“Oh,” Dan murmured unintelligently. Something in his tone sounded genuinely shocked.

“That’s kind of the point of having adult conversations about your feelings,” Phil pointed out playfully, trying to diffuse some of the tension. “Ideally we _learn_ something so that we don’t have to have the same fight again.” 

“Right,” Dan muttered into Phil’s chest. 

“So?” Phil pushed when a few seconds had passed and Dan hadn’t continued.

“I’m thinking,” Dan responded distantly. It didn’t sound like a brush off, though — it sounded like he was genuinely _contemplating_ Phil’s question. 

“Okay.” A slow smile spread across Phil’s face. He was surprised to find that he actually liked that Dan wasn’t answering immediately, that Dan seemed to actually be putting thought into Phil’s question. “Take your time.” 

And _take his time_ Dan did. In fact, Dan took _so_ much time that Phil would have been worried that he wasn’t thinking at all, that he’d just fallen asleep, if it weren’t for the steady drag of Dan’s thumb against Phil’s knee. 

“I guess,” Dan quietly piped up after what seemed like an eternity. His words came out muffled, though, and he turned his head to the side, resting his cheek on Phil’s chest instead. “I guess I learned to… _trust_ that you’ll, like, support me. And not be mad.” 

“Mhmmm,” Phil hummed. “And?”

“And…” Dan still sounded uncertain, but he sounded like he was gaining confidence now that Phil had agreed with something he’d said. “And I should communicate, for _real_ , not just let you find out things on instagram. You know, tell you my thoughts and shit.” Dan took a quick breath, continuing again without more prompting from Phil. “And that it’s better to talk about things, rather than just… fucking it out.”

“Good.” Phil dropped a kiss to the top of Dan’s head before he let his gaze drift up and around Dan’s room as he mulled over his own lessons. “And I learned —”

The sharp movement of Dan’s head interrupted Phil. “ _You learned?_ ” Dan asked, sounding bewildered, _amazed_. 

Phil looked down again, only to find Dan already staring up at him, his eyes wide and lips parted, looking positively shocked.“Of course,” Phil replied simply. “This is a a two way street, silly. We’re learning together.”

“Oh,” Dan mumbled, his head jerking back in surprise. He blinked rapidly, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Phil waited patiently, his eyebrows quirked up in amusement. Dan snapped his mouth shut, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Finally, he continued, “I just assumed it was just me who needed to learn since I’m the fucked up one.”

The amusement drained out of Phil’s face, leaving nothing but abject horror and heartbreak in its place. The phrasing of Dan’s words was a jagged knife in Phil’s stomach; the subtle difference between _I fucked up_ and _I’m fucked up_ had never been so glaringly loud as it was in that moment.

“Listen to me Daniel James Howell,” Phil demanded, perhaps a bit more vehemently than intended. He let go of Dan’s shoulders, his hands coming to Dan’s face instead. Hands grasping Dan’s cheeks, Phil coaxed Dan into a sitting position, holding him firmly so that Dan had no choice but to look anywhere but Phil. “You. Are. Not. Fucked. Up.” Phil argued, strong determination seeping into every word.

Looking like he’d beg to differ, Dan opened his mouth, but Phil pushed forward, continuing on before Dan could disagree.

“Today, I learned — am _learning_ — how being in an abusive relationship —”

“It wasn’t _abusive_ ,” Dan interrupted fiercely, a twinge of the defensiveness creeping back. “It was just—” His voice fumbled, his gaze fell. “Toxic,” he finished weakly. 

“Fine, _toxic_ ,” Phil relented, using Dan’s word instead — not that it was really all that much better, but it seemed to matter to Dan. “Today I’m learning about how being in a _toxic_ relationship has affected you.”

Dan leaned backwards, pointedly pulling his face out of Phil’s hands. “That sounds like a nice way of saying _fucked up_ , Phil.” The derisive, self-deprecating tone was back in Dan’s voice, and a humorless grin was replacing the happy smile from moments ago.

“It’s not,” Phil implored. “ _You_ aren’t fucked up. _You_ were in an unhealthy relationship for a long time, and you _learned_ to develop unhealthy reactions to stuff because it helped you in that relationship. All that means is that you need to learn healthier reactions.”

Dan rolled his eyes, and let out an exasperated sigh. “So this morning _I_ learned to not make a fight go away by blowing you, and you learned that you get to teach your boyfriend to respond healthily to things because he’s an emotional wreck who doesn’t know how to deal with basic relationship shit,” Dan summarized bluntly as he stared stubbornly somewhere over Phil’s left shoulder, not quite meeting his gaze. There was a bitter edge to Dan’s voice that made Phil’s heart ache.

“Hey,” Phil wheedled, his hand reaching out to adjust Dan’s head so they were properly facing each other again. “Remember, you also learned to _trust that I’ll support you_ , yeah? That applies here too, okay?”

Dan’s eyes _finally_ flickered from somewhere behind Phil to meet Phil’s gaze. Dan looked skeptical, like he was ready to push back again.

“You’re acting like this a huge burden, and it’s _not_ ,” Phil continued before Dan had the chance to say anything. “So long as we have clear conversations like _this_ , and so long you’re open with me like you were earlier, it’s going to be okay.”

“I — fine,” Dan conceded. “I can do that. Or, well, try.” Dan shrugged, a small embarrassed look on his face. “Being open is… hard sometimes. And I don’t exactly realize when I’m having an unhealthy reaction to something.”

“That’s okay,” Phil assured Dan, his thumb lightly rubbing over the wrinkle between Dan’s eyebrows. As if Phil’s touch were magic, Dan’s face relaxed, the tension melting away. “Being vulnerable is hard for _everyone_ , I can’t begin to imagine how hard it is when you’re used to a toxic relationship. I’ll help you realize when there’s unhealthy stuff going on. This isn’t all on you, alright?”

Phil dropped his hand to his lap, blindly searching for Dan’s without breaking eye contact. Their fingers brushed, and they both rushed to lace them together.

“I’ll fuck up again,” Dan pointed out, but all of the resistance was gone and there was a dopey smile slowly spreading across his face.

“This morning won’t be the last time I mess up either, but I’m —”

“ _You?_ ” Dan cut Phil off incredulously. “ _You_ didn’t fuck up this morning!”

This time, it was Phil who shrugged. “I’ve never been in a relationship with someone who…” Phil paused, picking his next words deliberately, careful to not say anything that would quickly send Dan spiraling back into the _I’m fucked up_ mindset. “...responds differently to stuff than me.”

Dan cocked his head, the dopey smile twisting into a look of confusion. Clearly, Phil’s attempts to be sensitive had erred _too_ far on the side of diplomatic.

“When I got here, Louise was really… iffy about leaving,” Phil tried to explain, still picking his words carefully. Dan wasn’t going to wallow in self-hate anymore, especially not because of anything Phil said. “And I knew why. And I promised not to be like Isabella, and not to hurt you. And then Louise left and it was like _poof_ , I forgot about those promises.”

“Phil,” Dan consoled him softly. “You weren’t anything like Isabella.”

“Well, good.” Phil forced out a hollow chuckle. “But I still let my temper get the best of me, and I didn’t once stop to think about how your past, about how being with Isabella, might have affected the way you interpreted _my_ actions. And I should have.” 

“That’s not _your_ fault. You don’t have to walk on fucking eggshells around me.”

“No, but I didn’t have to be sarcastic and accusatory and snappy. I didn’t have to think only about myself.” Phil shook his head forcefully. “I could have let you sleep a little longer. I could have let you have a fucking cup of coffee.”

“I — yeah. That might have helped,” Dan reluctantly agreed after a beat of silence.

“Exactly,” Phil said with a smile. “See, we _both_ learned things this morning.”

Dan leaned forward, and Phil expected a kiss or maybe just a hug, but instead he was met with Dan’s head crashing into his chest. Dan’s hands were adjusting Phil’s, manhandling him until Phil’s arms were looped around Dan’s waist.

Phil didn’t waste any time before tightening his grip and pulling Dan in closer. Pliantly, Dan scooched into Phil’s lap until his arse was between Phil’s thighs, and his long legs were tucked along Phil’s side, his arms smushed between their torsos. Dan wasn’t hugging Phil, not by a thousand kilometers. This was _just_ Dan being held by Phil. And that was fine.

In a different moment, Phil would probably have laughed about how _small_ his absolute giant of a boyfriend had managed to become, but now didn’t seem like the right time. Phil could imagine that Dan was feeling a lot of things right now — vulnerable from this morning, probably still shocked from coming out — and pointing out that Dan had turned into a contortionist so that he could curl up into Phil’s lap like a small child seemed like the wrong thing to do.

So Phil let Dan burrow into his chest, and Phil held Dan as tightly as he dared. 

“Phil?” Dan murmured tentatively without pulling back.

Phil’s brows automatically rose in curiosity. “Yeah?” he asked.

“For the record, even though we fought and stuff, this is still better than even the best days with Isabella.”

“Hmm?” Phil hummed, not quite making sense of Dan’s comment.

“I feel like…” Dan trailed off, sounding like he was searching for words. “Even when we’re fighting, you push me to be better, to _want_ to be better. I like that.”

“Oh,” Phil mumbled dumbly, a faint smile growing on his face. A warm wave washed over Phil, and he couldn’t resist tightening his hold on Dan and pressing another kiss to the top of his head.

One of Dan’s hands wiggled free from the space between their bodies, and found its way to Phil’s side. Dan’s fingers trailed down Phil’s ribcage all the way to the hem of his jumper, ducking under and sliding back up. The warm tickle of Dan’s fingers on the side of Phil’s stomach made him giggle in surprise, even though he objectively _knew_ it was coming. Dan giggled back, his head tipping back so that he was looking up at Phil, his breath fanning across Phil’s neck.

“I like me better when I’m with you,” Dan whispered, his fingers coming to a halt and his hand latching onto Phil’s side.

“I like me better when I’m with you, too,” Phil agreed softly. He leaned forward, tilting his head down to capture Dan’s lips with his. Dan kissed back eagerly, his back arching up, his hand slipping around to Phil’s lower back. 

“Good,” Dan muttered with a note of finality, his lips only barely pulling back from Phil’s. “Now, I know _healthy relationships_ frown upon blowjobs _during_ a fight, but what’s the stance on blowjobs _after_ a fight?”

A loud, high pitched giggle escaped Phil’s mouth, his tongue lolling out and inadvertently licking across Dan’s lips. “In favor,” Phil managed through his giggles. “Very in favor.”

“Excellent, because those joggers are stupidly tight and they really make me wanna suck your cock.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Phil chided through a beaming smile.

“I don’t see you complaining,” Dan pointed out smugly, already shuffling down the bed on his knees. His hands were gripping Phil’s hips firmly and maneuvering him into a more accessible position. Phil let himself be manhandled, obediently twisting around around until he was laying on his back.

Dan wasn’t wasting any time — no sooner had Phil stopped moving, than Dan was immediately reaching for Phil’s joggers. “Off,” he ordered breathily, tugging on the hem. “And the shirt, too.”

“Demanding, aren’t we?” Phil teased, lifting his hips up to help.

Dan shot Phil a menacing glare — a look that was spoiled by the fact that his pupils were blown wide with lust. “I could so easily not blow you right now,” Dan threatened, even as he yanked Phil’s joggers over his bum, his pants pulled down in the same motion.

“This was _your_ idea,” Phil said snarkily. All the same, he pushed up slightly, grabbed the neck of his shirt, and tugged it over his head. Carelessly, Phil chucked his shirt onto the floor, and reached for the hem of Dan’s sweater. “I want this off, too,” Phil urged with a tug. 

“ _I’m_ blowing _you_ ,” Dan explained dramatically.

“And _I_ want a _view_ ,” Phil whined, just as theatrically. He pulled upwards, this time aided by Dan, who dragged his sweater over his head and tossed it behind him. 

“Happy now?” Dan grumbled, a smile pulling at his lips, as he shimmied further down the bed.

“Take of the trousers and then I’ll be thrilled.” Phil offered Dan a cheeky smile, hoping it was enough to convince him.

Dan, however, froze between Phil’s legs and sent him a thoroughly unamused look.

“Hey! Don’t have such a great arse if you don’t want me to want to look at it all the time,” Phil accused innocently.

A deep blush spread from Dan’s collarbones, up his neck, all the way to his cheeks. Dan climbed off the bed, his hands flying toward the button on his jeans. Phil shuffled onto his elbows so he had a better look at Dan.

“You cheeky bastard, I don’t know why I keep you around,” Dan mumbled under his breath. The blush had extended from all the way to Dan’s ears, though, and Phil knew he’d hit a nerve — a _good_ nerve.

Salaciously, Phil let his eyes wander down Dan’s bare chest, let his gaze linger on Dan’s hands, let himself watch the way Dan slowly swayed his hips as he pushed the tight black trousers down. Phil could feel his cock stirring in interest just from _looking_ at Dan — this boy really was going to be the death of him.

Before Phil could reach for his own cock, Dan was crawling back on the bed — completely arse naked this time — and coming to a halt just centimeters from Phil’s crotch. 

“You look good like this,” Dan hummed, his breath ghosting over Phil’s growing cock.

“I could say the same about you.” Phil’s response came out weakly, though; he was already breathless just from Dan being so close to him. From Phil’s limited experience with Dan’s mouth, he knew it was fucking _talented_ — talented enough that Dan was sure to drive Phil insane with it one day.

“You and your damn view,” Dan muttered with a shake of his head and a fond eyeroll. He crouched forward, the new position pushing his bare arse into the air and, yeah, Phil would happily endure teasing if _this_ was the view that he got for it.

~*~*~*~*~*

The wet heat of Dan’s mouth on Phil’s cock was _intoxicating_ , and somehow even more than what he’d been expecting. _Talented_ didn’t begin to cover how amazing Dan was at this, but more than that, it just felt good being so close to Dan again after the drama of the morning.

Phil’s elbows gave out beneath him, and his head fell back against the pillows, despite his desire to keeping staring at the way his cock looked between Dan’s lips, the way Dan’s arse looked high in the air. The sudden pleasure was too much, and Phil’s eyes slipped shut against his will, his fingers clenching into the duvet. A louder than normal moan tumbled from his mouth, and he allowed himself to give in to the overwhelming feeling of Dan’s hot mouth sucking him.

The sound — and electrifying vibrations — of Dan chuckling around him made Phil reach down and swat playfully at this head, but Dan was quick to make up for his teasing by bobbing his head down even further. A quiet, involuntary gasp escaped Phil when he felt his cock slide into the back of Dan’s throat, Dan nose pressing into Phil’s groin. The pleasure that was coursing through him was impossible to ignore, and Phil felt himself go boneless, his hand slipping back to the bed. Dan’s hand caught Phil’s, though, and guided it back to his head. Through a haze of pleasure, Phil remembered how much Dan got off on having his hair pulled, and tangled his fingers in Dan’s knotted curls. 

Phil wasn’t sure how he’d gone so long without this — not sex necessarily, but sex with _Dan_. Every time Dan touched him, Phil felt like he was on fire, the heat and desire burning him up from the inside. But it was so much more than that. Just _being_ with Dan always made Phil feel incredibly lucky. He liked Dan so _damn_ much, and he’d happily spend the rest of eternity making sure Dan knew it.

Dan’s mouth worked Phil like he’d been doing this for years, not just the one time he’d actually done so. He was a quick learner, somehow already figuring out what Phil liked, what he didn’t, and what would most likely send him over the edge. 

It only took a few seconds of Dan massaging his balls, his fingers ghosting to the sensitive spot just behind them, before Phil was gasping, body tensing and hand tugging on Dan’s hair as orgasm rushed through him.

Panting, Phil tugged more forcefully on Dan’s hair, guiding him into a kiss and licking away the taste of himself on Dan’s tongue. Dan chuckled against his lips, but kissed him back with just as much vigor. 

Dan’s hard cock brushed against Phil’s thigh, eliciting a deep, loud moan from Dan. Phil pulled away to whisper, “Let me return the favor.”

“Gladly,” Dan murmured back. 

******************** ~*~*~*~

When they finally calmed down from what was frankly two amazing blowjobs, Dan and Phil both reached for their phones. It was hardly the post-orgasm bliss that Phil wanted to revel in, but he knew that they both had to face — or at least check in on — their managers, their family, _the internet_ , at some point. So here they were, laying on their backs next to each other, completely naked, and scrolling through their notifications.

Phil’s manager had called three times since they’d moved to the bedroom, each time leaving increasingly long voicemails demanding that Phil call her back as soon as possible or reschedule their morning meeting for later in the day. Phil ignored her requests, though; he was determined to wait to return her calls until him and Dan had a firm plan in place, until they discussed what should and shouldn’t remain private.

Dan, unfortunately, wasn’t as lucky as Phil, as they found out when Dan played his voicemails on speaker. The downside of Dan’s manager being his best friend was that Louise had a lot more leverage to make Dan have proper conversations about his public image. Unlike Marianne, Louise’s voicemails weren’t full of pleading demands for Dan to schedule a meeting — no, hers were full of threats to just _show up_ if Dan didn’t call her back. 

“She will, too,” Dan grumbled when the last voicemail finished playing. “I should text her or something, see if I can stop this from happening.”

“You can meet with her if you need to. I don’t mind,” Phil offered.

“Oh I definitely need to, but I don’t have to right _now_ ,” Dan responded with a laugh, his eyes lewdly raking up and down Phil’s exposed body. “Louise can wait until I don’t have a naked boyfriend in my bed,” Dan added unnecessarily, like Phil _hadn’t_ figured out exactly what Dan was thinking from the way Dan was checking him out.

Phil chuckled at Dan’s antics, bringing his phone back up to his face to cover the blush that he was certain was spreading across his cheeks. “I’m not going to stop you, there.”

While Dan typed a message to Louise, Phil scrolled through his own texts. There was another message from his brother, one from PJ, and _three_ new messages from his mum. Just like Marianne, Phil wasn’t ready to talk to any of them yet — it wasn’t like he had any idea what he’d say right now anyway. 

He left all of them unread.

Aimlessly, Phil switched to scrolling through his email. A firm poke on his shoulder drew him away from the long message he was skimming from his boss at the BBC.

“Here,” Dan said, holding his phone out for Phil to take, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “I reckon this should keep her away for a while.” Despite the impish expression, Dan’s dimple was still on fully display; it made the entire look a thousand times cuter, and Phil wished he could have a framed picture of that exact expression.

Phil clicked the lock button on his phone, and carelessly threw it somewhere beside him on the bed. Turning closer to Dan, Phil took the phone from Dan’s outstretched hand and read over the message that he’d just sent to Louise.

 **Dan [1:34PM]:** everythings good here dw. we’re both naked tho and i have no intentions of letting phil get dressed so i don’t recommend you waltz in here unannounced

“Da _aaaan_ ,” Phil whined. His blush from earlier rushed back, his cheeks turning even redder this time. 

“What?” Dan teased, sounding far too innocent given the circumstances. “It’s true,” he pointed out cheekily. The tips of Dan’s fingers trailed up Phil’s inner thigh to his hip, just barely missing his cock. Even though Phil came less than an hour ago, the light stimulation was enough to make his cock twitch in interest.

“Ugh, but _she_ doesn’t need to know that,” Phil griped indignantly. 

“Too late!” Dan quipped cheerfully without a single trace of remorse. Without waiting for Phil to respond, Dan plucked his phone out of Phil’s hands, chucked it towards the foot of the bed, and flung himself on top of Phil.

“ _Oof_ ,” Phil grunted when the full weight of Dan landed soundly on him. “Hello there, I guess,” Phil greeted playfully. He lightly patted the very top of Dan’s head, an amused smile creeping onto his face when he noticed how comfortable Dan was making himself.

“Shut up and hug me,” Dan grumbled. His face was already buried in the crook of Phil’s neck, his body stretched out along Phil’s length, his legs tangled between Phil’s own. 

“If I must,” Phil sighed with mock exasperation. He wrapped his arms around Dan’s waist all the same, shuffling him over a bit so that Dan’s hipbone wasn’t jutting into Phil’s. 

There were more conversations to be had — Phil knew they were unavoidable. For now, though, he was enjoying relishing the intimacy of lounging in bed well into the afternoon with a naked Dan on top of him. 

To Phil’s surprise, it was Dan who broke the tranquil atmosphere first. 

“So,” Dan started out of nowhere. “In the spirit of _healthy adult conversations_ —” the words came out overly posh and just mocking enough to not completely ruin the mood, “— we should probably talk about what me being out means for us. Publicly I mean.”

“Yeah, we should,” Phil agreed softly. One hand drifted from its perch on Dan’s waist to lightly stroke up and down Dan’s back. “I want to hear your thoughts first.”

“You do?” Dan asked, with far too much surprise. 

Phil rolled his eyes good naturedly, shaking Dan gently. “Unhealthy reaction alert,” he teased, keeping his tone light and humorous. “It shouldn’t be shocking when your partner wants to hear your thoughts.”

Dan chucked, blowing waves of hot air against Phil’s throat. “I — yeah. That makes sense. Objectively.” 

“Buuut…?” Phil prodded with a smile, his hand returning to its slow caress of Dan’s spine.

Dan shrugged, his shoulder lightly knocking into Phil’s chin. “It’s just new, is all.”

“Well get used to it, Howell,” Phil ordered good-naturedly. One of these days, Dan was _going_ to learn what healthy relationships felt like, but until then, Phil would just have to keep surprising him.

“Yes sir,” Dan conceded, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Kinky,” Phil laughed with an exaggeratedly deep and raunch tone, rocking his hips up into Dan’s. It wasn’t _really_ meant to be a sexy move, but their hips were more closely aligned than Phil had originally thought and their cocks rubbed together suggestively. A loud, high gasp filled Phil’s ear at the same time as he let out his own quiet moan.

 _Fuck_ , it was tempting to rock them together again, to squeeze Dan’s arse and grind his hips into Phil’s.

“Careful,” Dan warned saucily, a breathless twinge to his reprimand. “There won’t be any adult conversation if you do that again.”

“Oops,” Phil said in lieu of an apology. He cleared his throat and did his best to school his tone back into something serious. For good measure, Phil slid his hands a little further up Dan’s back, making sure that he was well away from Dan’s arse. “Back to the topic. What do you want? Publicly?”

“Right,” Dan said curtly. He shuffled slightly so that their hips weren’t _quite_ as perfectly lined up anymore. “Unless we try _really_ hard to keep it quiet, I think it’s inevitable that people find out — like _for sure_ find out — about us.”

“I agree.” Phil nodded, accidentally jostling Dan. “Do you want to try to hide it? We can tone it down on the internet.”

Dan’s arm snaked its way from Phil’s side up to his hair, and his fingers tangled in Phil’s messy quiff. “I’d rather not, honestly. Part of the reason for not going along with Isabella’s stupid plan was that I didn’t want to have to police my behavior with you.”

“Good,” Phil murmured. He tipped his head forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Dan’s head. “So we both agree that we don’t want to actively hide. What do you want then?”

Dan sighed, the air tickling at Phil’s neck. “I _just_ came out. And I know I already sort of vaguely hinted about you — I had to. Obviously.” Dan huffed out an aggravated breath. “But I guess I’d rather it just be about that for a little bit. Like, if I’m going to do this, if I’m really going to be out, I want to _really_ do it.”

Phil’s brows furrowed together and his body froze as he tried to make sense of Dan’s words. “I’m not sure I’m following,” Phil confessed.

“There’s not enough bi-representation out there,” Dan explained sadly. “And from the small amount of scrolling through comments and tweets that I did, it was clear that actually seeing someone in the media come out as bi really meant something to a lot of people.” Dan’s fingers mindlessly ran through Phil’s hair, his nails pausing to tap a light rhythm against Phil’s head every couple of minutes. Despite the fact that Dan was naked and laying across Phil, his head completely hidden in Phil’s neck, Dan still managed to be incredibly thoughtful and considerate — still managed to be articulate about the topics he was passionate about.

“So I’d rather it just be about _that_ for a while,” Dan continued. “The second people know for sure that we are together, we’re both going to get bombarded with questions about _that_ and that’s all anyone is going to talk about anymore.”

“That makes sense,” Phil agreed, his brows relaxing and hands finding their gentle pace along Dan’s spine again. “So we don’t hide, but we don’t confirm either?” Phil clarified, intent on ensuring that they were on the same page. 

“Basically.” Dan pushed up a little, his elbows pressing into the mattress on either side of Phil’s head. “Are you okay with that? I don’t want to push you to —”

Phil derailed Dan’s nervous rant the only quick way he could think to, given that Dan had him pinned to the bed — his hands abruptly slid down from Dan’s back, all the way down to his arse, and he squeezed authoritatively. Dan stopped talking immediately.

“Hush,” Phil needlessly added. “I told you ages ago, Dan. I’m following your lead here. Whatever you want is fine, so long as I have a chance to share my concerns if I have any. I’d just like to be, you know, _warned_ before anything big happens. If for no other reason that I’d rather not have to explain to my family why the entire internet knows something before they do.”

“Ugh,” Dan groaned, collapsing back onto Phil. “Have I made a completely terrible first impression on your mum by ruining your chance to tell her?”

“Nah, you’re too loveable for her not like.”

Phil felt Dan tense, and for a brief second he panicked that he’d gone too far — that he’d come on too strong too fast. 

But then he felt the unmistakable feeling of Dan smiling into his neck, his lips stretched wide and his teeth grazing Phil’s skin.

“I’m lovable?” Dan asked. His voice was high-pitched and hopeful, like he didn’t quite believe it. Phil planned to spend as long as Dan would let him proving just how lovable he was.

“Of course,” Phil assured him, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re like a big, warm teddy bear.”

Dan giggled into Phil’s neck, his hands looping back up to tangle in Phil’s hair. “Funny. That’s what my family calls me,” he mumbled.

“What? Teddy bear?” Phil’s brows knitted together as he tried to imagine calling his adult son _teddy bear_. 

“No, just _bear_ ,” Dan corrected quietly.

“Oh,” Phil mumbled, his eyebrows raising in amusement. His heart melted at how precious it was, how perfectly _bear_ seemed to fit Dan. “That’s unbelievably adorable.” 

“Shut up,” Dan threatened lightly. “Don’t —”

Whatever Dan was going to warn Phil not to do, though, was cut off by the sudden chime of Dan’s phone.

“Fuck, can I ignore that?” Dan whined childishly. His hands stubbornly twisted tighter in Phil’s hair and he didn’t move a centimeter.

“I dunno.” Phil ran his hand up Dan’s back, all the way to his shoulder, and pulled up lightly. “You’re not going to know unless you look though.”

“You’re the _worst_ ,” Dan groaned, his face purposefully digging further into the nape of Phil’s neck. “You aren’t supposed to actually make me move. What a bad boyfriend.”

“You can lay down again once you’ve looked at the message,” Phil bargained as he nudged at Dan’s shoulders again. Dan was Phil’s makeshift blanket, and Phil wasn’t keen on losing his warmth, but reality was looming in the back of his mind. 

“Fine, you ass.” Dan pushed off Phil, his legs moving to straddle Phil’s hips. He leaned backwards, his weight shifting to his hands behind him. The position gave Phil a perfect view of Dan’s long, thin body, and he couldn’t stop his brain from immediately imagining Dan in this position _not_ reaching for his phone.

Images of Dan straddling his hips, his back arched in that sexy way, Phil’s cock buried balls-deep in Dan’s hole, flooded Phil’s mind — he was powerless to stop it. It was like he was fifteen again; his body instantly responded to the mental image, his cock growing hard against his will, pressing insistently again the crevice of Dan’s arse.

Dan must have not noticed yet, because he was still fumbling around for his phone. Phil was too busy looking at everything else about Dan to really register him finding his phone and opening the message.

“Fuck,” Dan cursed suddenly, snapping Phil’s attention away from the gorgeous sprawling cursive of Dan’s tattoo on his rib — something Phil hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate yet.

“What?” Phil snapped, a little more sharply than intended. He couldn’t quite hide that he was disgruntled that Dan was forcing him to pull his mind from his dirty fantasies.

“We need to get up and put clothes on, like, right now,” Dan said urgently

“What? ! Why?” Phil demanded, this time more frantic than annoyed. His heart pounded in worry, his mind spiraling as he thought of things that could be wrong.

Dan pouted at Phil over the top of his phone. “Louise texted that she’s in the lobby and is coming up in five minutes, regardless of if we’re still naked.” He frowned dramatically

Phil’s heart slowed back down when he processed that the biggest threat was just Louise barging into the flat. “Well, fuck. You need different friends,” Phil mumbled without any real bite to the sentiment.

“Fucking tell me about it,” Dan grumbled back, dropping his phone to his side. He leaned forward, his hands coming to rest on Phil’s chest and his hips shifting. The movement gave Phil’s cock _much_ more friction, only spurring on Phil’s problem.

“Wait,” Dan said through a giggle. “Are you _hard_ right now?”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Phil huffed. “You looked really good like that, okay?” 

Dan leaned back on his hands again and puffed his chest out slightly, intentionally rubbing his hips into Phil’s cock. There was an impish look on Dan’s face; his lips were quirked up into a mischievous smile and his eyes were filled with mirth. 

“What? Like this?” Dan asked. There was false innocence dripping from his voice, and his eyelashes were fluttering, and _fuck_ this was really getting to Phil. 

“Yes, exactly like that, you brat,” Phil chastised, even as his hands slid up Dan’s bare thighs and came to rest at the crook of his hips.

Dan broke out into a devilish smile, and leaned forward again. He splayed his hands across Phil’s chest, lowering himself down until he was just centimeters from Phil’s face.

“Noted,” he said smugly before closing the small distance and kissing Phil. Dan parted his lips, his tongue, immediately darting out to lick along Phil’s bottom lip. A quiet moan slipped from Phil’s mouth before he could stop it, and it only grew louder when Dan grazed his teeth along Phil’s lip.

All too soon, though, Dan was pulling back. Not just from the kiss, but all the way back to sitting, and then off of Phil’s lap in one fluid motion.

“Daa _annn_ ,” Phil whined. His dick was _throbbing_ , and watching Dan bed over to pick up his boxers from the floor was hardly helping matters. It was almost like Dan was _trying_ to wiggle his arse in Phil’s direction.

“Now who’s incorrigible?” Dan smirked as he straightened up and stepped into his pants.

“Fuck you,” Phil muttered, trying and failing to inject at least _some_ venom into his voice. 

“Maybe later,” Dan promised cheekily. “Now get up and pull on your joggers before you scar Louise,” he demanded, still sounding playful. Apparently, the looming arrival of his best friend wasn’t enough to stop Dan from making fun of Phil.

No matter how tempting it was to stay naked in bed with Dan, Phil knew that they both had to get up and face the world at some point. And the loud _ding_ of the elevator door made it clear that the time had come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like and reblog on tumblr 


	29. ly 29 (5028 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s holiday break, so i guess i’m back to my 2am posting schedule whoops lol. as always, much love to @auroraphilealis for all her help. earlier today, i asked her to edit before i wrote more of this chapter because i wasn't sure how much more to include without making things seem rushed and she was like "actually, i think you should end it here" so yeah, it's a bit short, but i was secretly thinking it before she said it, too, so it must be right lol. i'm v v v pumped for the next few chapters though omg do we have things in store.

Dan hurried out of his bedroom, pulling his potato sack of a sweater over his head as he left. The two minutes since the lift had _dinged_ with Louise’s arrival already felt like too long, and at this point, he knew any further delay was risky. 

He hadn’t bothered to find trousers — the only ones he’d seen on the floor were his tight as fuck jeans from last night, and he certainly wasn’t going to try to pull those back on. And lord knew he wasn’t going to take the time to dig around for something more comfortable. He’d known Louise for far too long to trust that she wouldn’t bang on his bedroom door if he didn’t make an appearance quickly. And if he didn’t answer the bedroom door fast enough… well, it was probably safe to assume that her and Phil would suddenly be _much_ better acquainted.

Socks, pants, and a massive sweater would have to do.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Dan hollered as he rushed down the hallway, just in case she hadn’t heard him slam the bedroom door behind him as he made his hasty exit. Adrenaline was still pumping through him, not allowing him to lose sight of the whirlwind of the last twenty-four hours. Both the sex and the productive, _healthy_ talking had left Dan in an excellent mood, and he felt like the happy energy was bubbling out of him. 

“In the lounge!” Louise called back. “Bring your computer charger, I forgot mine!” she tacked on. 

“Fine, you needy goose!” Dan shouted, not sounding nearly as aggravated as he’d intended; he didn’t have it in him to actually be annoyed with Louise demanding things right now. He diverted into his music room, and quickly grabbed his charger from where it was still plugged into his laptop next to his guitar. 

Dan shuffled down the hallway quickly, unable to make himself slow down and walk at a proper pace. He was still going _slightly_ too fast when he turned into the lounge, causing him to accidentally slide around the corner and crash into Louise, who was pouring herself a glass of water at the bar cart. 

“Hello there, bear,” Louise greeted with a smile, her arms automatically wrapping around him for a quick hug.

Dipping his head down, Dan pressed a chaste peck to her cheek. “Hi, Lou,” he said cheerfully with a wide, beaming smile that did nothing to tone down how good he was currently feeling.

Louise’s eyes darted behind Dan, peeking through the door over his shoulder. “I assumed Phil was still here…” she trailed off, her words not _quite_ coming out as a question.

“Oh, he is,” Dan confirmed slyly, flashing Louise an impish grin. “He had a small problem that he needed to calm down from before he could be social, though.” Dan winked, sounding extra cheeky, even though Louise had _definitely_ known Dan long enough that his words needed no further explanation.

“Daniel James Howell!” Louise gasped dramatically, a look of mock-outrage on her face. “Were you _actually_ in the middle of sex when I showed up?” Her eyes scanned down Dan, properly taking in his outfit — or lack thereof — for the first time since he’d slid into the room. Her eyes were stern and her hands were on her hips, but Dan could see a smile tugging at her lips.

“No!” Dan defended hastily, although a smile was pulling at his lips as he remembered what him and Phil had gotten up to not too long ago. “We’ve been… _done_ for a while. Not my fault he got all worked up when I checked my phone.”

Louise’s eyebrows quickly knitted together, and her head cocked to the side. “Usually not a sexual thing, Dan…” she noted, a humorous lilt in her voice.

Unable to resist, Dan wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Not unless you’re naked and it looks like you’re riding him…”

“Wait. Have you — did you —” Louise abruptly stopped mid-sentence, eye narrowed and lips tipped up into a hint of a mischievous smile. Dan raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Louise started over, “Did you talk or just mess around today?”

A shy giggle escaped Dan’s mouth, and he shrugged, tipping his head to the side. “Both, actually,” Dan admitted bashfully. “He pushed for us to talk, then we messed around, then we talked again.” 

Louise stared at him for a moment, looking contemplative. Finally, she seemed to settle on a response, and a sly smile spread across her face. “Okay, I have to know first. What do you mean by _mess around_?” 

Dan laughed loudly. He’d known the gossip who was determined to know every detail of his love life would have inevitably push for more on _that_ particular detail, but he’d kind of expected the manager in Louise to push for more information on their conversation first. 

Given how insane the last twenty-some hours had been though, Dan was glad to discover that best-friend-Louise was here, not just manager-Louise. It felt nice to revel in the newness of his relationship — a relationship that was going shocking well and maturely — instead of the massive fuck-fest that was his overall life right now. 

“No sex yet, you nosy snoop,” Dan teased, mouth pulled into a wide and saucy smirk. “I’ll call you as soon as he pulls out if you’re that desperate to know.” 

Immediately, Louise crinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes, her expression just barely bordering on horrified. “Not _that_ fast, please,” Louise grimaced, her nose scrunched up in mock-horror. “Wait until it’s… back in your pants, at least.”

“Mmmm,” Dan hummed knowingly as he flashed her another devilish grin. “You’re the one that seems so intent on knowing.” 

“Not _that_ fast!” Louise defended with a scoff. Her eyes were wide as saucers, and she was shaking her head adamantly. “You freak,” she added moving to sit on the sofa.

“Fine, fine,” Dan relented, his hands held up in playful surrender. A giggle was threatening to break through his voice, though, ruining his attempts to sound exasperated. “If you really think you can wait, then I guess I’ll just force him to cuddle with me afterwards.”

“I’m sure that will be _so_ hard, given how enamoured he is with you,” Louise replied sarcastically. 

“It’s not _that_ dramatic,” Dan whined.

“Yeah, right...” Louise trailed off sarcastically, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at the same time. Dan couldn’t help but feel _slightly_ insulted by how much Louise seemed to think him and Phil were more serious than he was saying. Even if it _was_ true. 

Louise’s demeanor shifted, then. Her smile was still soft, and Dan could tell that _Concerned Friend Louise_ was still here, but he could see from the subtle way her shoulders pushed back and her voice lowered that _Manager Louise_ was coming, too. “The talking then, tell me about that if you won’t dish on the sex,” Louise pushed.

Averting his eyes to the bar cart, where the flowers were wilting without a proper vase, and the pile of glass was scooped beneath it, Dan mumbled, “Do I have to?”

“As a friend, I’d let it go,” Louise offered with a sympathetic smile, voice soft and understanding. “But as your manager, I kind of need to know if you came to any decisions about where you want to go from here.” 

“Fuck, I know,” Dan whined, reluctantly giving in. Glancing over his shoulder, Dan peeked down the empty hallway and ruffled his hair anxiously. “Phil should be out here in a minute. Then we can all talk together.”

Louise’s eyebrows shot up. “You want him to be here when we talk about your next steps?” she asked, a hint of disbelief lacing her tone.

Dan couldn’t help but chuckle — Louise’s skepticism certainly wasn’t completely unwarranted. He’d never, _never_ , let any of his partners join their business discussions before. But Phil was different. Dan had always known that Phil would be different, and after their talk today, he had _some_ idea of how to actually _show_ Phil that he was different. It was hard, and kind of uncomfortable, but Dan was determined to do this right. “Like I said, we talked. I’m trying something new.”

“Aw,” Louise cooed, her hand reaching out to pinch his cheek. “Is little Daniel —” 

“Please don’t make a big deal of this, Louise,” Dan cut her off. With an annoyed huff, Dan smacked her hand away and cocked his head out of her reach.

Louise narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, still looking like she was on the verge of taunting him. Dan was well aware of how abnormal this was for him, how whipped and adulty he must sound, but he _really_ didn’t want to get into it. Not right now, not when Phil was bound to barge in at any minute. Silently, he pleaded with wide eyes for Louise to drop the subject.

“Fine,” Louise agreed. “For now,” she amended, shooting Dan a sidelong glance. Letting the topic go, Louise snatched the laptop charger from his hands and plugged her computer in by the armchair. Dan followed her the rest of the way into the lounge and collapsed onto the far end of the sofa, leaving room for Phil to sit. Barely looking up from her computer, Louise mumbled, “I need to pull some stuff up anyway, so we’ll wait for Phil.”

With the exception of Louise’s clicking and typing, the room was silent. Dan fiddled with the hem of his jumper, wishing that he’d remembered his phone. The internet was probably a risky place for him to lurk at the moment, but he was itching to be scrolling through _something_ — even if that _something_ was tumblr post after tumblr post speculating about his recent announcement. 

He wondered what people were thinking, how many more had realized that Philwas the boy from last night, if Isabella had said anything yet. He wondered if Isabella had figured out a way to spin his coming out so that it somehow about her, or if new outlets were reaching out to hear her version of the story. Scrolling through twitter and tumblr might not answer the questions beating around his head, but _fuck_ , at least it’d give him something else to concentrate on.

The sound of clumsy footsteps jarred Dan out of his thoughts. Dan glanced up in time to see Phil hovering awkwardly in the doorway. A smug smile tugged at Dan’s lips when he noticed that Phil had pulled on a pair of Dan’s loose, thick pyjama pants instead of his own tight joggers — clearly, Phil still had something to hide.

Apparently Dan wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Phil’s wardrobe change; Louise eyed Phil’s pyjamas with a knowing look, quiet laughter bubbling. Dan made the mistake of catching her gaze, and suddenly they were both cackling over the ridiculousness of the situation. 

“G-glad you took a moment to c-calm down there, Philly,” Dan choked out through his laughter. His cheeks hurt from smiling too hard, and he knew they were probably flushed as well. 

“Yeah,” Louise added, her own giggles making her words hard to understand. “I guess that m-moment was w-well helpf-ful.” 

A bright red flush rushed up Phil’s neck, flooding from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. His blatant embarrassment only seemed to fuel Dan and Louise’s amusement, and they both redoubled into another bout of laughter.

Phil groaned, high pitched and whiny, as he buried his face in his hands. He collapsed onto the sofa, his face still hidden, and sagged against Dan. 

“Poor Philly,” Dan cooed, laughter still shaking his shoulders as he pulled Phil closer. It was so fucking _refreshing_ to have a partner that he could tease, a partner that wouldn’t stomp their foot and huff and throw a tantrum when Dan and Louise made a joke at their expense. 

“None of today is the impression I wanted to make on Louise,” Phil whined through his fingers, sounding positively morose. Both Dan and Louise giggled again, Louise humorously shaking her head.

“I reckon there’ll be other chances,” Dan offered, trying to sound reassuring despite his mirth. 

“Ughhh,” Phil mumbled unintelligently. 

Dan smiled fondly at Phil, just barely resisting the temptation to pry his hands from his face and kiss his rosy cheeks.

Slowly, their laughter dwindled and Phil’s ears faded to their normal pale color. Louise cleared her throat, drawing Dan’s attention away from Phil. “As much as I _have_ been wanting to get to know Phil,” Louise said with a pointed look, her voice switching into _manager_ _mode_ , “we have a lot to chat about, and some of these decisions need to be made fast.” 

Both Dan and Phil straightened up at Louise’s sudden shift, putting a respectable distance between themselves.

“First things first,” Louise said, her gaze shifting back and forth from Dan to Phil. “Isabella responded. Sort of.”

“And?” Dan asked warily. Nervously, his hands tightly latched onto his legs, his fingertips harshly digging into his bare thighs. Dan was too amped up to notice the pain, but Phil must not have been. Gentle fingers wrapped around Dan’s hand and pulled it down. Pliantly, Dan let Phil guide their hands to his lap, his fingers automatically seeking out the hem of his baggy jumper instead.

“She’s keeping her meeting with Tatler tomorrow,” Louise continued with a frown — a fact that didn’t escape Dan’s notice. With a deep sigh, Dan prepared himself for whatever news Louise had. “Judging by the fan’s tweet that she replied to, she’s going to talk about her version of finding out about your sexuality. So prepare yourself for that.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dan grumbled.

“Hang on, let me just show you,” Louise mumbled, tapping around on her phone before tossing it to Dan. It was opened to Isabella’s twitter, _of course_. Tilting the phone so Phil could see too, Dan apprehensively read the tweet.

@prettyfashionista: @IsabellaDeLaRenta Did you know that @danielhowell was bi when you were dating?”

@IsabellaDeLaRenta: @prettyfashionista You’ll have to read my interview with @Tatler tomorrow to hear all about it ;) 

It wasn’t surprising that Isabella was determined to say _something_ about Dan’s coming out, but his heart sunk all the same. “Great,” Dan mumbled with an eyeroll, throwing Louise’s phone back. Whatever _that_ story was, it was bound to be a load of bullshit.

Louise caught her phone and continued without acknowledging Dan’s disgruntled comment. “I’ve spoken with Tatler’s legal team though, and they are aware that if they run _any_ version of the stories Isabella described in that contract, then charges will be pressed.”

“Fucking fantastic,” Dan grumbled, still not pleased with the direction of the conversation so far. Pressing charges wouldn’t do any good; if the story got out, then the damage would be done. Besides, even if Tatler refrained from releasing any of the shit in the contract, there was still _plenty_ of crap Isabella could spin to make Dan look like the villain. 

“As you can imagine, both the media and your fans have lots of questions.” Louise seemed to click a few times on her screen before fully returning her attention to Dan. “ _Especially_ since Isabella is going to talk to Talter, and say god knows what, I think it’s important for you to properly talk about this somewhere.”

“Like an interview,” Dan deadpanned, even though he already knew the answer.

Louise nodded. “I’ve got several options lined up, just waiting to be confirmed. If you’re okay with it, then we can talk about what you’re willing to do and eliminate some of those options.”

Dan sighed and gave a firm nod, steeling himself for what he knew he had to do. Interviews weren’t his favorite part of fame — especially when he didn’t have something concrete to promote as an easy conversation topic to fall back on. As much as Dan knew that an interview — or two or three — was the right thing to do, he also knew that there would be _no_ easy questions or topics. Not even his album, which he’d made explicitly clear was at least partially about a _boy_ , would be comfortable.

“Let’s hear the options, then.” Dan shifted forward, his elbows moving to rest on his knees, his hands steadfastly crossed in front of him. 

“Okay, well the biggest decision is _how_ you want to talk,” Louise explained without looking up from her computer. “There are some tv options, a few website ones, and,” her eyes flickered to Phil. “One radio option.”

Dan followed Louise’s gaze, sending a questioning look at Phil. 

“Don’t ask me,” Phil defended lightly with a smile and a shrug. “I’ve been ignoring my bosses’ emails all day. But I did see a few from the BBC with your name in the subject line…”

“Well, given the decision to not confirm, um, _us_ right now...” Dan’s gaze flickered between Phil and Louise, whose eyebrows raised in surprise at Dan’s admission. “I don’t think the radio show is the best idea. Plus,” Dan continued before Louise could push him to decide — he didn’t need the pressure, as soon as he’d heard the options, he’d known in his gut what he wanted, _needed_ to do. “I want people to be able to _see_ and _hear_ me. So that leaves television,” he concluded, resolute and unwavering.

“Of course,” Phil agreed understandingly at the same time as Louise asked, “Why?”

Dan caught Phil’s eye. It didn’t surprise him that Phil — who was both in the public eye and queer — would understand why Dan was adamant to discuss _this_ particular topic in a place where editors couldn’t easily chop up his words. And Louise, who was straight and sheltered from the scrutiny of the media, wouldn’t.

Turning his gaze back to Louise, Dan explained, “If I’m going to do this, if I’m going to talk about my sexuality, then I want people to hear this from _me_.” Dan drummed his fingers on his closed fist, automatically letting out a sigh when Phil’s hand landed on his lower back and began tracing soothing circles just above his pants. “I just — I don’t want websites or magazines or whoever to have the chance to twist my words, and most radio doesn’t have enough coverage for my entire audience to hear it. I want people to hear _every_ word I have to say. It’s too important.”

Louise nodded with a note of finality, her hands clicking around on the computer some more. “Okay, that leaves… three television options. And then that narrows it down to the question of _when_.”

“The sooner the better,” Dan answered confidently — much more confidently than he’d realized he felt. Now that he’d actually _come out_ , deciding to talk about it felt a million times easier than he ever would have anticipated. “Whatever the fuck Isabella is going to tell Tatler tomorrow, I want to be able to respond as soon as possible.”

Louise clicked silently a few more times before finally looking up. “Alright, what are your thoughts on… The Tonight Show?”

“Brilliant,” Dan agreed with a sigh of relief. He’d been on The Tonight Show a few times since he’d released his first album, and each time it had been a wonderful experience. “Jimmy’s great, he’ll be well understanding and supportive. When?”

“Tomorrow night?” Louise answered with a slight grimace, her voice raising up tentatively. 

“Holy shit,” Dan murmured. Needing an outlet for his stress, Dan ran an agitated hand through his hair, tugging on his curls. “The Tonight Show’s in _America_ , Lou! That means I’d have to leave…” Dan trailed off, shaking his head. When he’d said _soon_ , he hadn’t anticipated _now_. 

“On the redeye tonight,” Louise confirmed solemnly. “I’ve already got a ticket on hold, I had a feeling you’d pick this one.”

Dan sighed, resigned to his fate, and dropped his hand to his lap, his fingers tapping out a familiar beat on his knee. It was soon and rushed, but far better than any other option — he knew that without even _hearing_ which other interviews Louise had to offer. “Make it two, I’m not going without you.” 

Red lip drawn between her teeth, Louise shot Dan an uncertain half-smile. “It’s Darcy’s first ballet recital tomorrow and I’d be a horrid mum if I missed it…”

“Louise!” Dan balked, outraged at the mere _idea_ of Louise sending him to do this alone. “You can’t expect me to go to _New York_ alone right now!” Less than twelve hours ago, Louise had held Dan while he fell apart — she couldn’t seriously expect him to go halfway across the world by himself. Not to handle _this_ of all topics, even with his surprising newfound confidence. 

“Both Tom and Matt — my boyfriend and Darcy’s dad,” Louise clarified with a quick glance at Phil, “are out of town this weekend. If I don’t go, then Darcy will have _no one_ at her first recital,” Louise pleaded, sounding guilty but like she was _begging_ Dan to understand. It was clear that she felt truly horrid. Horrid enough that she might give in if Dan pushed a little bit more. 

It wasn’t that Dan didn’t feel bad for Darcy, he just… well, when he pictured himself sitting alone in a hotel room in New York City before going on late night American television to talk about his shitty ex-relationship and his sexuality, he felt even worse for himself.

Before he could start to plead, though, Phil interrupted him. 

“I could go,” Phil offered, sounding far too casual for the magnitude of what he was suggesting.

Dan and Louise simultaneously snapped to look at Phil. Dan’s jaw was sagging open as he tried to process Phil’s offer. Out of the corner of his eye, Dan could tell that Louise’s expression wasn’t tons more composed.

“To America,” Dan clarified stupidly. “With me. This weekend.”

“I don’t want you go alone, and if you think Jimmy Fallon is the right choice, then I’ll support you,” Phil agreed easily. His knee knocked against Dan’s purposefully. 

“But you have a liveshow this weekend,” Dan replied, still sounding shocked and wildly unintelligent. His brain was having trouble processing Phil’s offer to give up his weekend to fly to a different _continent_ to be Dan’s emotional support while he talked about his sexuality— especially since they’d _just_ had a fight about the fact that Dan had come out without properly telling Phil.

“Liveshows,” Phil retorted with bit of laughter in his voice, “can be done from anywhere, including New York.”

“Oh,” Dan muttered as he finally let himself imagine what _Phil_ , not Louise, coming with him could be like. Let himself imagine having Phil standing backstage as he talked to fucking _Jimmy Fallon_ about being bisexual in front of a live audience. Let himself imagine him and Phil going out somewhere after filming was over, maybe a nice restaurant or bar. Let himself imagine actually getting a whole new kind of support from a relationship. 

“You’d do that?” Dan breathed, still in awe. Butterflies were beating at Dan’s stomach, causing Dan to feel overwhelmed by everything he felt for Phil. These emotions were new, and he barely knew what to do with them, but he was so, _so_ happy to finally feel the all-consuming warmth that people talked about. 

“Of course,” Phil murmured back. His eyes were bright and full of just as much affection as he held Dan’s gaze. “Supportive and healthy relationship, right?”

“Right,” Dan agreed softly, a slow smile spreading across his face. He’d always thought artists who wrote love songs were exaggerating or selling out, but given the album he was working on, he’d have to reassess his opinion for fear of being a hypocrite. “You’re seriously amazing.” 

“So are you,” Phil promised quietly, his thumb gently grazing the side of Dan’s thigh. In perfect sync, both boys leaned in, naturally tipping their lips towards each other.

“Sorry to interrupt lads,” Louise chimed in, yanking them out of their sweet moment. Dan snapped his head to face Louise, only to find her still fully in _manager mode_ with her fingers poised on her keyboard. “The flight leaves in five hours, and if you’re serious, then you should be booked and packing right about now.”

Dan’s mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish, before he turned to face Phil again. Even without Dan voicing the question that was on the tip of his tongue, Phil gave a singular emphatic nod. That was all the confirmation Dan needed; breaking eye contact with Phil, Dan shifted his gaze back to Louise with a matching nod. “Book the tickets.”

*****************************

When Dan made it to the airport three hours later, he was out of breath and tired. He hadn’t seen Phil since Louise had kicked him out to go pack as soon as the tickets were booked. Phil had left quickly with a chaste kiss and a promise to meet Dan at the airport; now that Dan was here, all he wanted was Phil to be next to him again.

Phil hadn’t been out the door for more than three minutes before Louise forced them to switch into planning mode — not hotels or any of the logistical pieces that Louise could handle while they were in the air, but the _very detailed_ particulars of Dan’s late night appearance. As inauthentic as it felt to craft answers to a million possible questions that he might be asked, Dan knew he’d be grateful for this planning session tomorrow. 

The conversation hadn’t been dropped when he’d started packing, either. Louise followed him into the bedroom, and began proposing thousands of possibilities of what Isabella might tell Tatler. Together, they worked through how he could respond to different false accusations and attacks, and decided which bits of his side of their relationship he was willing to share. 

Realistically, Dan would only have a few hours between Isabella’s meeting at Tatler and filming his segment of The Tonight Show, so the more preparation he did today, the better. And the majority of those hours would likely be spent backstage, too close to prying ears to properly talk things through with Phil.

By the time Dan had crawled into an uber with his luggage, he had been too sick of talking to even carry on a conversation with the driver. Thankfully, Phil had sent a reassuring text to Dan that his uber was only a few minutes out, and that he’d meet Dan at the airport soon.

The wait for Phil was agonizing. At least three people were wearing the black _Ugh_ beanies that Dan had sold on his last tour, and he was eternally grateful that he’d snagged a bench next to a large pole that he could hide behind. There was no doubt in Dan’s mind that him and Phil would not be able to make it all the way to New York without running into at least one of their respective fans — him and Phil both had _massive_ fanbases, so it seemed inevitable that they’d run into fans at some point. Dan sincerely hoped that the universe could just hold off until Phil was here to help keep up the conversation, though.

From his seat just a few meters from the doors, Dan finally saw Phil tumble through the nearest entrance a few minutes after Dan had checked in, his suitcase precariously trailing behind him. A wave of relief rushed through Dan as the anxiety that was chewing at his edges dulled. Without hesitating, Dan hoisted his backpack on his shoulder and rushed towards Phil. For a moment, Dan didn’t care about any fans that might still be loitering nearby. He launched himself at Phil, arms wrapping around his neck, eager for a hug from his boyfriend after the stress of the last few hours. 

“Ooof,” Phil grunted, although Dan could practically _hear_ the smile in Phil’s voice. Clumsy arms circled around Dan’s waist, and Dan was distantly aware of the dull _thud_ from Phil’s suitcase toppling over. Steadfastly ignoring it, Dan squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in Phil’s neck. He took a deep breath, inhaling Phil’s strawberry shampoo and spiced cologne — it was the most relaxed he’d felt since getting out of bed that afternoon.

“Hi babe,” Phil greeted after a moment, his hands loosening from their resting place. Immediately, Dan tensed up, and his hold around Phil’s neck tightened.

“Not yet,” he mumbled, his voice coming out far more desperate and needy than he’d intended for it to. Now that Phil was hugging him, Dan realized how much he had been craving _this_ , how much he needed the warm comfort of _Phil_. 

A soft chuckle tickled Dan’s ear, but Phil’s arms tightened around him again, and Dan relaxed back into Phil’s embrace. Dan knew they couldn’t stay like this long — they needed to get through security and, plus, at some point the risk of someone photographing them would become too high. But for just another moment, Dan let himself not care — not care about their tight itinerary, not care about fans, not care about anything but the warm comfort of Phil.

Phil hugged Dan close and tight, not letting go until Dan unwound himself from Phil’s neck and stepped back. Even then, Phil reached out for Dan, this time lightly stroking his thumb over Dan’s cheek. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, voice low and quiet.

“Definitely,” Dan nodded before turning his head and pressing a chaste kiss to the flat of Phil’s palm. 

“Let’s go then,” Phil said encouragingly, bending down for his suitcase before leading Dan back over to his guitar.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed. His fingers brushed lightly against the back of Phil’s hand, his pinkie wrapping around Phil’s for the briefest of seconds. Someday, he’d hold Phil’s hand in airports — and restaurants and bars and fucking _Tesco_ — but for now, Dan reached for the handle of his guitar case. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like and reblog on tumblr 


	30. ly 30 (7620 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to my one true love [ auroraphilealis ](http://www.auroraphilealis.tumblr.com) for giving up whatever she was doing tonight to beta, even though she had a headache and unlimited lives on her fave mobile game of the moment xx

Dan woke up early, groggy from jetlag. The hotel room was shrouded in dark shadows, and in his sleepy state, he couldn’t tell if it was from the thick curtains or if it was still dark outside. Whichever it was, it really made him not want to move — well, that and the warm weight of Phil’s arm wrapped around his waist and the soft, rhythmic tickle of Phil’s breath against the back of Dan’s neck. Sometime during the night, they’d shifted from their original position of Dan’s head on Phil’s chest. They hadn’t drifted far from each other, though. Somehow, they’d ended up spooning, and Dan secretly loved that even in their sleep, they’d wanted to stay close together.

But despite the serenity, worry nagged at the back of Dan’s mind, and he found himself itching to check his phone. He’d spent the majority of the plane ride ruminating about Isabella’s interview, his mind spiraling and dreaming up worst case scenarios. During the one hour of the flight he’d managed to sleep, he’d dreamed that Isabella had told everyone he’d cheated on her with Phil. 

Luckily, last night he’d slept peacefully — he couldn’t imagine trying to film an interview in front of a live audience on a fitful night’s sleep. Dan suspected that Phil had something to do with why he’d slept so well, but now didn’t seem like the time to explore that thought. 

Careful not to disturb Phil, Dan stretched forward to swipe his phone off the bedside table. He clicked it on, and was surprised to find that it was only half past seven — his alarm wasn’t due to go off for another half hour. Less surprising was the fact that there were already two text messages from Louise; it was five hours later there after all. 

The messages had only come in an hour ago. 

There was little doubt in Dan’s mind that the messages had something to do with Isabella’s interview, because Louise would have waited until a more reasonable time to text about anything else. Wiggling further back into Phil’s embrace, Dan took a deep breath and opened them. 

**Louise [6:28AM]:** Tatler has already posted about the interview. They must have wanted to get it out fast, because it’s pretty much just a transcript, not a proper article. I’m going to read it now. 

**Louise [6:37AM]:** You’re going to hate it. Honestly, it’s not that bad, there’s nothing so damning that you can’t fix it. But… you won’t like it :( Here’s the link: www.tatler.uk/18572650

“Fuck,” Dan muttered, apparently a little too loudly. Behind him, Phil stirred; his leg shifted, wrapping fully around Dan’s, and Phil pulled him in closer. 

“What time’s it?” Phil asked, his voice deep and scratchy with sleep. 

“Half seven,” Dan answered shortly. 

“What’re you doin’ up?” Phil slurred. His hand dipped just inside the hem of Dan’s pyjama pants, his thumb stroking Dan’s bare hipbone. On any other morning, Dan was certain that this would be pleasant — peaceful even. But this morning, Dan’s mind couldn’t detach from the real world enough to enjoy the touch.

“Louise texted. The interview is up.” Even to his own ears, Dan’s voice sounded flat. Flat and tight. 

The news seemed to affect Phil just as much as it had Dan. The gentle caress of Dan’s hip stopped abruptly, Phil’s hand gripping his waist tightly instead. 

“How bad?” Phil asked warily. 

Dan tipped his head slightly so that he could at least sort of see Phil. “Dunno yet. I haven’t read it. Louise said I wouldn’t like it, but it, and I quote, isn’t too bad and there’s nothing too damning.”

“That’s… contradictory.” Phil’s brows were furrowed; he looked just as confused as Dan felt. 

“Fucking tell me about it,” Dan grumbled. Louise had never been one to sugar coat news about publicity, so he objectively knew this couldn’t be _that_ horrific. But still, the fact that his _best friend_ knew he’d hate what Isabella had to say… He had a feeling that meant that Izzy had probably gone for the jugular. 

“Well,” Phil said with a sigh. “Should we read it?” 

“Unfortunately,” Dan huffed. One hand dropped from his phone, reaching instead for Phil’s arm that was wrapped around his waist. Slowly, Dan slithered his hand down until his fingers linked with Phil’s. Looking over his shoulder, Dan’s eyes flickered back and forth between Phil’s. “Together?” he asked hopefully. 

“Of course,” Phil agreed, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to Dan’s forehead. 

“Alright, here goes nothing.” With a sigh, Dan rolled back onto his side, and clicked the link Louise had sent. He felt Phil raise up on his elbow, his head hooking around Dan’s shoulder so he could read too. The page loaded, and Dan dove into reading, knowing that if he procrastinated at all, his anxiety might stop him from ever being able to read it. 

— 

**The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly of Love with Daniel Howell**

**__**_This morning, I sat down with one of Tatler’s favorite models, Isabella De La Renta, to talk about her recent split from singer Daniel Howell (see_ **here __** _,_ **here __** _, and_ **here** _for our past coverage of the shocking break up). For those curious, Isabella ordered a green tea (maybe inspired by her recent trip to China; see_ **here** _for more details) and a yogurt parfait (no granola because she doesn’t eat carbs to maintain her perfect figure!). Isabella dished on everything from Dan’s shocking announcement about his sexuality (see his instagram post_ **here __** _) to how their relationship was going before their split._

**You and Dan dated for a long time —**

IDLR: Almost a year!

**What’s life like now that you’re broken up?**

IDLR: It’s been a hard adjustment. In so many ways, Dan was my best friend. It still feels weird to not be able to call him after a long day or to share good news.

**I think it goes without saying that your breakup was a huge shock to your fans. Were you surprised?**

IDLR: Yes and no. By the time we broke up, I knew it was the right thing to do, but if you asked me earlier this year, I never would have guessed. Just a few months ago, I went to Adalina’s birthday dinner — that’s Dan’s little sister — and his mum and I were talking about rings. His whole family was so welcoming and seemed really supportive of the idea of marriage. 

**Oh wow — rings. How did that come up?**

IDLR: Dan’s mum was wearing a _gorgeous_ diamond ring that he bought her for Christmas, and she made a point to tell me that. It was _so_ clearly a sneaky way for him to get my opinion on what kind of rings I prefer. It was kind of sweet actually.

**From ring talk to breaking up, that’s quite a change. You said that you knew breaking up was the right thing to do. Why was that?**

**__** _For the first time since we sat down together, Isabella fell silent. Her eyes drifted out the window, and she was silent a long time. By the time she spoke again, her voice was choked up with tears and the model’s response was interrupted by delicate sniffles. It’s clear that this topic is still hard for her to talk about._

IDLR: We dated almost a year and, like I said, we were best friends. I thought I knew everything about Danny. And then in January, he told me he was attracted to guys, too. I really didn’t want it to affect our relationship, but I felt so betrayed that he’d kept such a big part of himself secret from me that it was hard to trust him anymore. In the end, I knew I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t willing to be completely authentic with me. 

**Did you feel like he continued to be inauthentic with you after he came out to you?**

IDLR: Yes, yes definitely. Dan assured me — just like he announced on his insta — that he’s bisexual. But after a year of dating him, and seeing how he is with a certain boy, I think maybe… maybe he’s not _bi_ sexual if you know what I mean. 

**Interesting. So what do you think that means about his relationship with you?**

IDLR: Honestly, I feel really used. Before he told me about his sexuality, there were definitely moments where I felt like he was dating me for reasons he wasn’t letting on. But I never would have guessed it was a coverup for being gay. 

**I don't think any of us anticipated that! How did Dan handle the breakup?**

IDLR: He really didn’t want to break up — he asked me several times to reconsider. I think he liked being able to show the world that he had a girlfriend, and ultimately, we did have a lot of fun together. Even if it did turn out to be not genuinely based on sex or romance. 

**Since you teased about it, will you tell us what the sex was like?**

IDLR: Nosey nosey! For a while, it was good — maybe because it was new or him exploring or whatever. But that must have worn off or something. For the last few months, he wasn’t interested in it at all. He’d always find an excuse to get out of it, and the few times he didn’t… well, let’s just say it didn’t work and it wasn’t my fault. That was really hard to come to terms with and I felt so rejected. 

**That would be difficult for anyone to handle.**

IDLR: I feel like it was extra hard for me because I’ve, like, never been rejected like that before. I grew up always being the pretty girl that everybody wanted, so to have Danny not want me in that way… Well, that’s when I knew for sure that he wasn’t _bi_ , and realized our whole relationship was totally fake and I was just his… _beard_.

**His beard — wow. That’s not something you hear much anymore.**

IDLR: Maybe people are just better at keeping secrets now. Besides, it doesn’t take a genius to notice that I’m the _only_ public relationship Dan’s had. Why else do you think that would be, if it wasn’t that all his lovers were _men_?

_I asked Isabella if she had any final things to say about Daniel Howell, and she left us with this powerful message:_

“Danny had me fooled for almost a year, and we were closer than I thought two people could be. Don’t hesitate to think that he might be fooling you too.” -IDLR.

— 

“Fuck fuck fucking _fuck_!” Dan cursed. Every single word in the article was complete _bullshit_ , but that quote at the end — that quote was the final fucking straw. How fucking _dare_ Isabella twist the story like that, and then use her twisted, fucked up version of events to make everyone question everything he was going to say?

Adrenaline was coursing through Dan’s veins, and he couldn’t possibly stay still for another _second_. Dan chucked his phone towards the foot of the bed, not bothering to check if it landed safely — it was cracked anyway — and abruptly lunged out of Phil’s arm. 

Pent up energy was eating at him, making him itch to move, so he began pacing their room. With vehement quickness, Dan marched up and down the small aisle between the foot of the bed and the dresser, pacing from the sofa to the bathroom and back, over and over and over.

“Fuck her, _fuck her_ , that fucking _cunt_!” Dan spat, bringing one hand up to tug roughly at his tangled curls. 

“Dan, I know you’re pissed off, but —” Phil started to say, but Dan wasn’t having any of it. He just barely glanced over, only fleetingly noting that Phil had pushed himself up to a sitting position and was now leaning forward like he wanted to say something.

“Pissed off?” Dan asked incredulously with a bitter laugh. _Pissed off_ didn’t even begin to describe how Dan felt right now — he was downright _livid_ , and he literally could not remember a single time where he’d been more upset than this. Not when his dad had sold his car without his permission, not when a group of obnoxious young fans had tried to harass Adaline for information, not when an unreleased, private song had accidentally been released to the public. 

This — _this_ was a whole new fucking level of anger, and there was only one way Dan knew how to cope with it.

Music. 

He wanted everyone to know that _Isabella_ was the one trying to fool the world, that _Isabella_ was the one lying out of her ass. And what better way to do it than singing a song that practically _screamed_ how fucked up Isabella’s behavior had been?

And if he sang it tonight, just _hours_ after Isabella’s interview was released, people would know he’d written it _beforehand_ — it would be at least one piece of evidence that would corroborate his version — the _real_ version — of the story. 

“That bitch isn’t getting away with this,” Dan muttered fiercely. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his side, his breaths coming in harsh huffs. 

“Don’t do anything too rash, Dan,” Phil half-heartedly pleaded from the bed. The words knocked Dan out of his thoughts, and he froze mid-pace to spin around and face Phil.

“It’s not considered _rash_ if I already planned on releasing the song at some point, right?” He raised his eyebrows pointedly.

Phil narrowed his gaze, though, eyeing Dan carefully. “I thought you said you only had one song you could perform without the backup band?”

Dan narrowed his eyes. He understood Phil’s rebuttal — Dan _had_ told Phil that there was only one song he could play with just his guitar. _My My My_ was Dan’s only acoustic song. But that didn’t mean it was the only song he could play without having his full backup band with him. 

“Well, technically,” he admitted slowly. “But I do have another song — a _perfect_ song — that’s basically ready. The band’s already recorded the instrumental parts, so I could just sing to that,” Dan suggested tentatively.

To Dan’s surprise, Phil _pouted_ at the news. His bottom lip stuck out pitifully, his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“I thought _my_ song was perfect?” he whined.

The anger that had been curling at Dan’s edges receded slightly, utter adoration for the man in front of him creeping into its place. Despite the urge to retaliate against Isabella’s accusations, Dan found his entire body, his entire demeanor, softening. Phil was so cute, and yet so petulant, that Dan couldn’t help melting. There was a happy glint in Phil’s eyes that was never there when Isabella had pouted at Dan, a spark that told Dan that this was different.

Before Dan could process his own actions, he was moving again, this time walking with purpose towards Phil and coming to a stop at the very edge of the bed.

Reaching out, Dan cupped Phil’s face in his palms, tilting his head up until their eyes met.

“Of course your song is perfect, Philly,” Dan reassured him with a soft smile. “But I wrote _My My My_ , and the rest of your songs for that matter, when I was happy and giddy and in—” Dan paused, a hot flush rising to his cheeks. “Well. When I wasn’t in _this_ kind of mood. And I’d rather the world didn’t hear any of them for the first time with _this_ mood tainting it.”

For a moment, Phil just held Dan’s gaze. Dan raised his brows hopefully, almost pleading for Phil’s sad look to go away. But then Phil’s pouted melted, and a small smile replaced it instead. A part of Dan — a bigger part of him than he’d like to admit, really — was surprised at how quickly Phil’s pout had disappeared, even if the pout had only been joking in the first place. After a year with Isabella, Dan was used to fucking _groveling_ if he wanted those sad looks to go away without sex. 

“The _rest_ of my songs?” Phil marveled, a hint of astonishment lacing his voice and a pink blush tainting his cheeks. 

“Yes you loser, the _rest_ of your songs.” Dan huffed, but not bothering to hide an enamoured grin.

“I didn’t know there was more than just the one,” Phil said softly, a note of awe in his voice.

“Did you even _listen_ to the concept of the album?” Dan shook his head and rolled his eyes. Humor and fondness were seeping into his words no matter how hard he tried to sound serious; it didn’t matter that he’d been delirious with anger fifteen seconds ago, something about this boy managed to swing his mood to the polar opposite in the flicker of a second. “Wanting you, getting you… doesn’t that imply a bare minimum of _two_ songs?” Dan teased, quirking an eyebrow and running one hand along the short, buzzcut side of Phil’s hair. 

Isabella wasn’t right, he wasn’t _gay_ , but he definitely reveled in how much of a _boy_ Phil was. 

“I mean,” Phil’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, his mouth pulling into a broad grin. Through his teeth, Phil’s tongue continued poking out of his mouth, and for once, his hand didn’t shoot up to hide it. “I guess I _objectively_ figured that. But I didn’t, like… know. For sure, I mean.”

“You’re a dork, but I like you anyway,” Dan teased with a smirk. 

Leaning down, Dan closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against Phil’s. The kiss was soft, almost chaste, at first, but the adrenaline that had been plaguing Dan must not have settled yet. The gentle kiss quickly grew heated, Dan’s mouth parting and his tongue darting out to lick along Phil’s bottom lip.

The soft whine Phil let out made Dan grin smugly.

“Before I call Lou about the song change, I need to shower and cool down,” Dan panted against Phil’s mouth after a moment, only drawing far enough back to mumble the words. Tipping his head forward, Dan captured Phil’s lips once more, playfully, sucking Phil’s bottom lip between his own, and letting his teeth graze along the sensitive skin just inside of Phil’s mouth. “Come with me?”

Hot staccatoed breaths fanned across Dan’s face as Phil chuckled, chasing Dan’s mouth to press a final, chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m pretty sure me showering with you will do the _opposite_ of helping you cool down,” Phil teased.

“But Phi- _illllll_ ,” Dan whined, his voice several octaves higher than normal. Childish petulance seemed to take over Dan, and he stomped his foot on the ground, tugging pointedly at Phil’s hair. 

“But D- _annnn_ ,” Phil mocked, his voice somehow even higher than Dan’s. Smirk on his face, Phil lightly shook Dan by the hips. 

Actions speak louder than words, or so everyone said, so rather than replying, Dan opted to slide his hands from Phil’s cheeks _down down down_ until he’d landed on Phil’s hips. Even then, Dan didn’t stop; one hand drifted farther, slipping into the hem of Phil’s pants. His fingers grazed Phil’s hipbone, creeping farther and farther back towards Phil’s arse.

Dan wiggled his eyebrows and licked his lips in what he hoped was a suggestive manner. “Come on,” he said gruffly, his hand lightly squeezing what he could reach of Phil’s arse. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Phil started with a mischievous glint in his eye, shaking his head at Dan’s offer but smirking all the while. “I promise we’ll do something _fun_ when you’re done filming the show.”

Lips pursed, Dan raised his brows skeptically. “Why can’t we do something fun later _and_ now? It seems unnecessarily cruel for you to lounge in bed and leave me to wank in the shower,” he whined.

“Jesus christ, Dan,” Phil muttered, his eyes squeezing shut. Against his hips, Dan could feel the way Phil’s fingers dug in, he could see the way Phil’s entire body tensed. Everything about Phil’s demeanor made Dan confident that Phil would cave, if not now, then soon. 

It took a moment, but Phil opened them again, although he didn’t quite meet Dan’s eye. “We both know if I come with you, we’ll both get absurdly distracted.”

“So?” Dan asked petulantly, sticking _his_ lip out this time.

“So!” Phil huffed, exasperated. “You have a big day today and should focus on that. Besides, I should really call my mum.”

Dan wrinkled his nose, horrified at the change in subject. “Your _mum_? Are you really dragging _your mum_ into this to turn me off?”

“Shut up, you twat.” Phil rolled his eyes, finally tipping his head far enough back to meet Dan’s gaze again. “My mum’s _only_ request is that I text her if I leave the time zone, and now we’ve traveled through like _six_ , so I think I owe her a call.” 

“Yikes,” Dan cringed, his face scrunched up in horror. “You should have called her from the aeroport or something!” Dan tapped Phil’s shoulder impatiently, trying to get his point across.

Phil smiled softly, one hand reaching up to still Dan’s hand, trapping it against Phil’s neck. “I didn’t wanna leave you alone,” he said warmly, his other thumb grazing over Dan’s hipbone. 

“Ugh,” Dan recoiled instantly, his nose wrinkling up in disgust. He wrangled his hand out of Phil’s grip, lightly swatting him on the shoulder. “Gross,” Dan whined, but his lips were drawn into a beaming smile. 

Phil flicked Dan’s shoulder with his free hand, and flashed him a cheeky grin. “Shut up and go shower, Howell.”

“Fuck you too, Lester,” Dan pouted.

“You can do whatever you want later,” Phil teased coyly, his hand dipping into Dan’s pants to squeeze the top of his arse. Even knowing that Phil wasn’t going to accompany him to the shower, Dan couldn’t help but arch back into Phil’s touch.

“Fine, but you better believe I’m taking you up on that promise,” Dan griped, taking a minute step backward.

“Good,” Phil said with a shameless smile. “I hoped you would.”

********************

As much as Dan had resented having to get himself off with a rushed and mediocre handjob in the shower when he had a perfectly good, sexy boyfriend right outside the door, Phil had been right. From the minute Dan had gotten out of the shower — literally, he actually got out early because Louise was ringing — until the time Dan had been plopped down in a makeup chair in a small dressing room, he’d been having non-stop conversations about logistics and planning. Between Louise, his record label, and the Tonight Show coordinators, Dan barely had time to _breathe_ — much less fuck around in the shower.

All the planning had been good though. It kept his mind busy and held his nerves at bay — until now.

Now, as some random woman dabbed foundation onto Dan’s face, there was nothing to do other than let his mind wander. Phil had ducked out a few minutes ago, going on a quest for decent coffee for Dan. While Dan really did want some tolerable caffeine, he was beginning to regret letting _Phil_ be the one to get it. 

Phil’s grounding chatter had disappeared, and along with it, so had Dan’s composure. Nerves had settled deep in the pit of his stomach and were slowly taking over his whole body. Sure, Dan had been given a run-down of topics Jimmy would hit on — and allowed to veto any he was uncomfortable with — but the gravity of what he was about to do, what he was about to _talk_ _about_ on national television, was weighing on him.

The makeup artist finished with the foundation and grabbed a natural-looking dark brown mascara from the pot. “Look up, please,” she instructed.

Dan eyed the brown mascara — mascara that was basically almost the exact same shade as his own eyelashes. Something about it didn’t feel right tonight, and he couldn’t quite keep his gut from screaming about it. This whole week was a movement towards being more authentic, and in a sudden moment of brazenness, Dan interrupted the makeup woman.

“Actually —” Dan paused. Stalled in hesitation, his tongue darting out to nervously wet his lower lip. Fuck it. Tonight was about making a statement. A big, loud and proud statement. He wasn’t going to half-ass it. “Can you do some eyeliner first? And maybe the black mascara?” The words came out more unsure than he’d wanted them to, and his hand was shaky as he pointed to the most dramatic tube, but he’d asked all the same. That’s what counted.

Dan expected the woman to be surprised, to balk at his request for something more feminine than she was offering. But to his surprise, she smiled broadly and gushed, “Of course!” as she pulled a small bag out of her kit. “What kind of look are you going for? Something subtle that will bring out your eyes? Or something more dramatic like the mid-2000s emo trend?”

“Um…” Dan floundered, suddenly doubting his decision — he didn’t want either of those options. Eyes fluttering closed, Dan listened to Adaline’s voice in his head saying _one deep breath and then do the thing that scares you_. “Neither,” he said as he met the makeup artist’s gaze with a defiant stare. This time, his voice wasn’t trembling or uncertain. It was strong. Confident. 

The makeup artist’s head tilted slightly, and her lips quirked up into a small grin. “Okay, tell me what you’d like.”

Dan’s gaze drifted to his reflection in the mirror, his eyes tracing over the features of his face. “Nothing too dramatic, but I want it to be… noticeable.” He contemplated his long lashes and the dark brown of his eyes. “Something… pretty.”

“I can definitely do pretty!” The woman assured him with bubbly enthusiasm. “What are your thoughts about a bit of highlighter and bronzer to make those cute cheeks pop?”

A warm blush flushed Dan’s cheeks, and he looked down at his lap to hide his smile. He was flustered. Not from her calling him cute, but from the fact that someone other than Louise was willing to indulge his interest in makeup. 

“Yeah,” Dan agreed softly, glancing up to meet the woman’s gaze in the mirror. “Whatever you think will look nice.”

Mesmerized, Dan watched as the woman pulled palette after palette out of her bag, opening and closing them as she seemed to debate which products to use. It was all so much nicer than the kid’s kit he’d bought Darcy, and so much _more_ than the small stock Adaline used to have in her bathroom drawers. 

The woman brushed powders over his cheeks, some feeling like they were almost down to his chin, some feeling like the went all the way up to his eye. Having his makeup done — _proper_ makeup, not just stage makeup — was more nerve-wracking than Dan had anticipated, and he forced himself to avert his eyes _anywhere_ but his own reflection. If he saw himself before she’d finished, he worried that he’d lose his courage; it was better to wait until the whole thing was done, then it would be harder to derail. 

And maybe it’d look nice enough that he wouldn’t want to.

He reached out for one of the untouched palettes and opened it, only to find an array of greys and whites and blacks, some shimmery, some matte, and some straight up _glitter_. They were pretty — prettier than he thought he thought makeup could be, honestly.

“What’s this?” he asked, raising the palette a bit so the woman could see.

“Eyeshadow. Do you want some of that, too?” She asked it like it was the simplest question in the world, not like Dan was taking a rather large step in his slow but steady defiance of gender roles and heteronormativity. 

His eyes lingered on one glittery grey powder, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a gaping fish. 

After a moment’s hesitation, he weakly responded, “I think… not today.”

The makeup artist considered him for a second before plucking the palette out of his hands. “It’s up to you, of course, but we could do something really subtle. Maybe like this?” She spun the palette around so Dan could see it again, and pointed to one of the lightest options, a pale white with the faintest of shimmer. Dan didn’t know _much_ about makeup, but he doubted the color would even show up on his skin. 

“Does that even count as a color?” he asked doubtfully. 

“It’s more of an accent, usually.” The makeup artist shrugged. “But if we swept it across your eyelids, the light shimmer would catch in the light and it would look nice. Barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it, but nice.”

Dan hesitated again, his fingers tapping the table in front of him as he considered her offer. For some reason, eyeshadow — even eyeshadow that was basically nonexistent — seemed like a bigger step than eyeliner and something to accent his cheeks. 

“Here,” the makeup artist said in a soothing voice, almost as if she sensed his apprehension. Without waiting for a response from Dan, she pulled a brush out of her toolkit and reached for Dan’s hand. “I’ll swipe it on your hand so you can see what it looks like on your skin first.”

“Oh!” Dan breathed, astonished. The idea of testing it somewhere hadn’t occurred to him at all, and he was suddenly realizing how fucking little he knew about makeup. Pliantly, Dan let her guide his hand towards her, and he felt his cheeks heat up again as she swiped the brush against the inside of his wrist. It tickled far more than he’d thought it would — not necessarily a bad thing, though. The sensation only lasted a few seconds before she released his hands and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Slowly, tentatively, Dan lowered his arm, flipping it up so that he could see the soft, paler skin on the inside of his wrist.

In the end, the powder she’d applied was so light that he almost couldn’t see it. It wasn’t until he tilted his arm back and forth that he was able to see how the powder caught the light. She was right — it was just a faint shimmer, one he might not notice if he wasn’t trying to find it. 

Still, the barely-there glitter was hypnotizing, and he found himself unable to look away. 

“It’s so pretty,” he breathed, more to himself than to the woman.

“I’ll put it on your eyes, then,” she said definitively, leaving no room for Dan to refuse. “If you hate it, it’s easy to take off,” she added, softer this time, as she pointed to a packet labeled _makeup wipes_. Dan nodded, letting her do as she pleased. 

As _he_ pleased.

Tonight’s interview wasn’t a _now or never_ moment — there would be plenty of other opportunities to make the statements he wanted to make — but it felt just as heavy. This appearance, this interview on The Tonight Show, was his first deliberate appearance after coming out just two nights before. Big gestures, actions that spoke louder than words — those had always mattered to Dan. Deep in his gut, something about this moment — a moment when he knew the _largest_ possible audience would be watching — was calling for a grand display, and he was determined to do it justice.

“Go on then,” Dan whispered, taking a deep breath and then closed his eyes. 

The tickling sensation felt different on his eyelids, but it still made his skin prickle in the same pleasant way. It was gentler and far more precise than when Darcy had tried to do it, and some part of Dan — a part of himself that he didn’t fully understand — relished the soft caress of the brush.

Truth be told, he didn’t quite know what to make of the fact that he liked the makeup brush — and the makeup — so much. 

He liked being a boy, that much he knew. He liked his body, he liked his identity. But he didn’t necessarily like the box that society tried to confine him with. There were some things, some things that were traditionally labeled as _for girls_ , that he wanted to be able to embrace on occasion.

And as the soft bristles brushed glimmer powder across his skin, Dan knew this was a particular box he wanted to break out of every now and again.

The brush disappeared, and Dan started to open his eyes, but was interrupted by a fierce cry from the makeup artist. “Wait!” she exclaimed hurriedly. “I want you to get the full effect before you decide!”

Dan clamped his eyes shut again, inhaling another long breath. “Okay, just tell me what to do then.” Nerves and excitement both chewed at his stomach, fighting for dominance. At this point, he wasn’t sure which was going to win out. He just hoped this wonderful makeup artist was fucking magical and could give him the confidence to actually _do this_. 

“Just keep your eyes shut,” she instructed. Dan huffed out his breath, keeping his eyes tightly shut. “Well, okay a little looser than that,” the makeup artist chuckled, her thumb lightly brushing over Dan’s eyelid.

Dan did his best to relax his face and let whatever was going to happen, happen. If worse came to worst, he could have her take it off.

The sweeping, soft tickle of the brush disappeared, and suddenly a more pointed, but not quite _harsh_ , touch replaced it. The touch sweeped right alone his eyelid, just barely dipping out onto his temple. Late night youtube binges told him that this was probably eyeliner — and that it was probably some amount of a _wing_ (a term he only knew after three consecutive hours of Manny MUA). 

After just another drag of what felt like a pen, the makeup artist prompted, “You can open now.”

For once, Dan didn’t hesitate tonight. He knew whatever he saw, it’d probably be nice. Even if he didn’t want to wear it on television, he’d interacted with this girl long enough to trust that whatever she had done was at least worthy of a private selfie before he had her remove it.

But when Dan opened his eyes, he was greeted with the lightest, gentlest glow on his eyelids, and eyeliner that was _just_ this side of dramatic. It wasn’t wings, not in the way he’d seen on youtube binges. But it also wasn’t _just_ eyeliner accentuating the natural line of his eye. The eyeliner stretched out from the corner of his eye, just a hair, forming into a subtle point — nothing large enough to be truly _loud_ , but enough to be definitively _there_.

Dan opened his mouth to say something, but the words got caught in his mouth. To his great annoyance, he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes — tears he was _determined_ to not let fall. With rough determination, he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat, and cleared his voice before he tried to speak again.

“It’s great,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving his own eyes in the mirror. “Thanks.”

“Well let me put mascara on so you can get the full effect,” the woman said cheekily, waving a black tube in front of his face.

“Oh!” Dan gasped. Right — mascara. That was what had started this whole accidental makeup binge. “Go ahead, then,” Dan agreed.

He shifted his gaze up, prying his eyes open and forcing himself not to blink. The pull of the wand against his eyelashes was much more familiar — mascara was a pretty common part of stage makeup, a bit of makeup that was socially acceptable for guys to wear under certain conditions.

He loved that she was applying it _after_ having put eyeshadow and eyeliner on.

“Okay, _now_ tell me what you think.”

Dan’s eyes fluttered open again, appraising himself carefully in the mirror. The whole look seemed completed now that she’d added mascara. His eyes popped and his cheekbones seemed much more prominent than normal, the light reflecting off them more than usual. It wasn’t anything _too_ radically different from how he normally looked, but still. The makeup was very clearly present. It was _exactly_ what he’d wanted.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly, his eyes staying fixed on his reflection. 

“Here,” the artist said, nudging something hard into his bicep. “You should keep this.”

Dan broke his own gaze, his eyes flitting down to his arm. In the woman’s hand was the eyeshadow palette, the one that was filled with shimmery and matte monochrome powders.

“I — I couldn’t, that’s yours,” Dan stumbled in surprise.

“I want you to have it.” She offered him a kind smile and set the palette down in his lap. “I can tell you like the colors.” Knocking her shoulder against Dan’s, she smiled softly and held his gaze in the mirror.

“Still —” Dan started, not quite knowing where his rebuttal was going, just knowing he felt guilty about taking something that probably cost decent money from someone. He swallowed thickly, glancing from the artist to the palette and back up again. “I could buy my own or something.”

“I know,” she said softly, shrugging. Her eyes met his in the mirror, holding his gaze steadily. “But now you don’t have to go find the courage to do that right away. Have fun with it, see what you think.”

Dan stared down at the dozen shades of white, grey, and black, at a loss for how to use them. “I — I barely know what to do with eyeshadow, much less this many of them.” Dan sheepishly looked up at the woman, not feeling nearly worthy of such a gift.

“There are loads of youtube videos.” The woman chuckled as she dug around in her purse. “But here, take my card and we can have a little skype if you don’t know what to do.”

“Wow,” Dan mumbled, numbly reaching out for the card and blankly staring at the bold black letters spelling _Sofia Ricci_ against the stark white background. “Okay, um, I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” Sofia said definitively. “Now about those nails.”

Dan’s eyes shot down to his hands at the completely random observation, his eyes raking over his still matte-silver fingertips. His brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of Sofia’s comment.

“What about them?” he huffed, borderline offended as he glanced back up at her.

“I noticed some of them were smudged, and I was going to offer some nail polish remover, but…” Sofia trailed off, her eyes flickering down to her bag.

“But what?” Dan pushed when she didn’t finish her thought, eyes narrowed.

Bending over, Sofia dug through her bag for a second before holding out a small bottle of black nail polish in front of Dan. “Well, I thought maybe I could add some little designs over the smudges instead?”

Their eyes met in the mirror and Dan felt his heart fucking _swell_ at how kind and supportive Sofia looked. Half an hour ago, she had just been a random makeup woman. And twenty minutes ago, she’d been offering to dress him up like Gerard Way à la 2006. But since then, she’d morphed into a supportive ally, someone who seemed to genuinely encourage Dan’s interest in all of… _this_. 

“Hearts,” Dan said decisively, placing his hands on the table with purpose. 

Sofia’s expression softened, a smile hinting at her lips. “Sure thing,” she assured as she unscrewed the black bottle with an air of confidence. Silently, she dipped a toothpick into the polish and gestured for Dan’s hand. Gently but confidently, she spread his fingers against the counter and began dotting the toothpick with intense concentration.

Somehow, the resolute attention that Sofia was giving to Dan’s nails was wildly different from the manicurist that Dan had occasionally gone to over the last few years. _Sofia_ knew she was prepping Dan to go out in front of a massive public audience, _Sofia_ was painstakingly painting delicate designs on Dan’s nails, _Sofia_ was gently pushing Dan to be as authentic as he felt comfortable being.

Dan forced himself to look anywhere but his nails while Sofia worked. The whole nail polish thing — or at least wearing it in public — was new enough that it was still nerve-wracking, but he could still recall how lovely his nails had looked after the manicurist finished them earlier this week.

And he could _perfectly_ remember the reverent look on Phil’s face when he’d noticed.

Sofia painted in silence for a few minutes, working her way through Dan’s entire right hand before she spoke again. The sound of her voice startled Dan enough that he glanced over at her.

“So,” she started tentatively. “I feel like I should confess that I saw your instagram post.”

Dan froze. “Oh,” he said, the one syllable coming out tight and short.

“I really liked it,” Sofia added softly, sounding far more tentative than she had since they’d been introduced.

Dread washed over Dan as he slowly began to process the meaning behind Sofia’s words — she clearly followed him on Instagram. She was probably a fan. In his experience, no secrets were safe with fans — that’s why he’d always had pretty much anyone he let close sign an NDA. 

He hadn’t even hesitated with Sofia, though — and that was about to be his downfall. His interest in makeup was probably destined to be broadcasted all over the covers of the tabloids by this time tomorrow. 

Frozen, Dan stared at himself in the mirror, unable to properly look at Sofia. Unfortunately, this meant he was forced to watch the way horror and fear flooded his own eyes. The terror was plainly written on his face, and it was impossible for Sofia not to notice it, too. 

“Fuck — I mean, uh, frick, I mean —” Sofia stopped her dotting of his nails, instead looking up at him like a deer in headlights. 

The expression was so startled, so _genuine_ , that a little bit of Dan’s fears ebbed away. She looked so genuinely taken aback, so honestly scared of Dan’s reaction to what she’d said, that Dan couldn’t help but question if his worries were misplaced.

“Cursing is fine Sofia,” Dan assured her, his voice tighter than he wanted it to be. He drug his tongue along his bottom lip, trying to decide how much he wanted to allow. His eyes flickered to the eyeshadow palette and then to the business card on the table. He decided to take a leap of faith. “Just say whatever you want to say.”

“Right,” Sofia mumbled and flushed red, clearly embarrassed. “I just meant, I liked it… like, as a fan, it was good to see, but…” Her eyes didn’t quite meet Dan’s as she trailed off.

“...But?” Dan prompted, heart racing.

“But, as a fellow bisexual, it was the best post I’ve seen all year.” 

“Oh,” Dan breathed, blinking rapidly in surprise. “I — I…” 

Suddenly words seemed impossible to Dan — something that wasn’t exactly great since he was supposed to be talking about this very topic on _national television_ in less than an hour. But he had hardly expected his makeup artist to broach this conversation with him (and he _definitely_ hadn’t expected to ask for fucking _eyeshadow_ from her). 

“Sorry, I made it weird,” Sofia apologized, her gaze dropping back to her hands as she started steadily dotting another heart on Dan’s nails.

“No!” Dan exclaimed more forcefully than intended. “I mean, _no_ ,” he corrected, voice softer this time. “It’s not weird.”

Peeking up from Dan’s nails, Sofia caught his gaze in the mirror. “It’s not?”

“No. I — I didn’t realize until I came out how little bisexual representation there was out there.” Dan’s gaze flickered from Sofia’s gaze to his nails as he contemplated the decision he was making — the decision he’d technically already made. But with every word, the decision felt like more and more of an active choice. “And now… well, it doesn’t seem fair for us to keep being alone.”

“Thank you,” Sofia said softly, a hint of disbelief in her voice that Dan so desperately wished didn’t have to be there. That doubt wouldn’t exist if more people spoke up, if more people were authentic and tried to live their truth. “From all of us. It’s hard not seeing people like ourselves in the media, so what you’re doing… it means a lot.”

“Every listener I have is going to know that bisexuality is a real thing if I can help it,” Dan asserted, voice fierce for the first time that night. 

“That’s the spirit,” Sofia whispered conspiratorially.

Dan nodded once, not saying anything else. 

Of all the conversations he’d imagined having just before filming The Tonight Show, this certainly wasn’t one of them. But now that it had happened, it felt exactly like the conversation he’d needed — a conversation to remind him _why_ he was so passionate about professing his bisexuality. Passion that stemmed from somewhere deeper, somewhere more _important_ that Isabella’s whiny slander. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update 1/13/19: this chapter now has a little 1.3k outtake you can read [ here ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17399147/chapters/40996250). It supposedly takes place in the middle of the chapter, provided Dan’s day is a bit less busy. 
> 
>  
> 
> look i was gonna have the interview in this chapter but i got fucking excited and carried away, okay? 
> 
>  
> 
> like and reblog on tumblr 


	31. ly 31 (8613)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: thanks [ auroraphilealis ](http://www.auroraphilealis.tumblr.com) for editing, and also watching like a lot of jimmy fallon videos with me on youtube and messing around with me while i tried to figure some of this out haha. see end notes for links to relevant videos.

“One coffee with too much caffeine and not enough sugar for Daniel Howell!” 

Phil’s voice shook Dan out of his thoughts. Sofia, who had been lounging against the table as she told him about her pet shitzu, stopped in the middle of her story.Dan’s eyes snapped up, finding Phil in the mirror, two cups of coffee in his hands. Dan waited with bated breath, carefully watching for Phil’s reaction to the properly _pretty_ makeup that now adorned Dan’s face.

Most things in life happen gradually, even if that _gradually_ lasts only seconds. With Phil, all of their _graduallys_ had taken months. But this moment, much like the entire coming out decision and this television appearance, felt like a distinct _before and after_ moment.

There was the moment before Phil noticed Dan’s makeup.

And the moment after.

“Holy shit,” Phil breathed, his tone so flat that Dan had _no_ idea what to make of it. He did, however, notice the loosening grip Phil had on the coffees, and the way they very nearly slid out of his hands.

Phil’s fingers gripped tighter in the nick of time, just barely latching around the tops of the cups before they were sent crashing down to the floor. The subtle tightening of Phil’s fingers was the only movement he made though, or at least from what Dan could see in the mirror. Even his chest didn’t seem to be moving, like the sight of Dan in makeup had knocked the wind out of him.

Dan couldn’t bring himself to look at Phil’s face to find out if it was a good or bad breathless.

A long moment of silence passed, a moment in which Dan’s apprehension grew and grew until suddenly he was reaching out for the packet of makeup wipes that Sofia had gestured to earlier.

“No!” Phil exclaimed, the sudden noise causing Dan to freeze mid-reach. 

Nervously, Dan let his eyes drift up from the coffee cups in Phil hands, finally finding his face. 

Dan wasn’t sure what he’d expected — he knew Phil had liked the nail polish, he knew Phil had hinted about liking lipstick, but _this_ felt like entirely new territory. Now Dan had more products on his face than he could count on one hand , and a small part of him worried that _this_ would be the tipping point for Phil. That _this_ would be the moment that Phil realized that Dan was too dramatic, too rebellious, too _whatever_ for his persona.

But when Dan’s eyes landed on Phil’s face, all of his worries washed away. Much to Dan’s surprise, Phil’s lips were tipped up into a smile and his eyes were blown wide with lust.

“No, what?” Dan asked, a bit of teasing seeping into his tone now that he knew Phil wasn’t _repulsed_. There was still a shakiness in his voice though, a light quiver that betrayed just how fucking _nervous_ he’d been for Phil to see him like this. 

“Don’t you dare take that off,” Phil ordered steadily. There was an authoritative edge to his voice that sent a visible shiver down Dan’s spine.

With a quiet _thump_ , Dan’s hand fell flatly to the table, his eyes staying fixed on Phil’s. “Okay,” he agreed without hesitation, feeling warm down to his core. Feeling… settled. Expression neutral, but a genuinely happy glint in his eye, Dan watched Phil appraise him. 

Phil stepped closer, coming to a stop just a few centimeters behind Dan. Reaching around him, Phil sat a small cup of coffee down on the table — a cup of coffee Dan couldn’t help thinking better have nothing less than a triple espresso in it. Phil’s eyes, however, didn’t once drift to the makeup artist — they seemed to only be able to look from Dan’s eyes to his chin and back up again. 

“Wow,” Phil mumbled softly. One hand reached out, and Phil slowly dragged his fingers up the length of Dan’s neck. His touch was so feather-light that if Dan hadn’t been watching him do it in the mirror, he’d probably think he was imagining it. “You’re going to blow them away, Dan,” Phil whispered, voice soft and honeyed.

“In a good way?” Dan asked, unable to keep the nerves and anxiety out of his voice.

“In the best way,” Phil reassured him, his hand coming to rest on Dan’s shoulder, his thumb gently caressing Dan’s exposed collarbone. “You’re definitely gonna make a statement about gender roles.” Phil’s fingers drifted up, grazing along the far-more-pointed jut of Dan’s cheekbone, drifting up the to subtle wing of his eyeliner. Sheer reverence seemed to coat his face. “A very loud statement about how they’re stupid.”

Dan swallowed thickly as he was reminded of how fucking _huge_ it was that he was about to go on national television in proper makeup. Dan closed his eyes for a second, gathering his confidence, his composure, his cool. “That’s the goal,” Dan nodded once, determined and almost — but not quite — sure. 

“We’re all set here, so I’ll be heading out,” Sofia suddenly said, pushing off the makeup table to properly stand next to Dan. _Fuck_ , he’d nearly forgotten she was there.

Dan’s attention snapped away from Phil, finding Sofia instead. She was smiling a wide, kind smile, a smile that reminded Dan why he’d had the confidence to ask _her_ to help him with this step.

“Thank you,” Dan said with a smile. He cleared his throat, and his gaze shyly dropped to the piercing that dotted her collarbone. “For everything,” he added emphatically, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Sofia’s hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing once in a show of comradery. Her hand didn’t linger, though; she quickly pulled back and began gathering up her makeup and tools, carefully piling them into her bag. 

True to her word, Sofia left out the greyscale eyeshadow palette — and a few other things, Dan noticed. He opened his mouth, prepared to fight her, but she interrupted him. 

“It’s nothing,” she said meaningfully, placing the brushes, eyeliner, and mascara on top of Dan’s new bit of makeup. Her generosity was never-ending; she sat another palette — a palette that Dan had no idea what was in it or what to do with it — next to the small pile. 

“Thanks,” Dan mumbled, not wanting to call too much attention to his new belongings in front of Phil. It was clear he liked the makeup, sure, but a part of Dan was still self-conscious. A small, anxious voice in Dan’s mind worried that Phil wouldn’t want this to become a _thing_. Or that Phil found the makeup _hot_ but wouldn’t necessarily want Dan to wear it outside of the bedroom. 

There was also a part of Dan that was bloody _terrified_ at the prospect of trying to replicate this look on his own. 

“You have my number, yeah? Give me a call anytime,” Sofia offered again, sounding hopeful. 

“Of—” Dan started, prepared to assure her that he would definitely call, but the words died on his tongue when a different hand — this one rougher and tighter — landed on his opposite shoulder. 

“Dan’s not single,” Phil said tersely. 

Possessively. 

Dan jerked his head around to face Phil in the mirror, only to find him staring fucking _daggers_ at Sofia. It was a look Dan had never seen on Phil before — fuck, he’d never seen anything _close_ to that look on Phil’s face before. Clearly, Phil seemed to be under the impression that Sofia was flirting with his boyfriend, and he was _not_ having it.

Something about the way Phil was doing it, though, was so radically different from the way Isabella used to controllingly wrap her hand around Dan’s waist. This was _so_ much better. _This_ Dan… kind of liked. It had an undertone of… sweetness… that Isabella never had.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he flicked his gaze back to Sofia. Judging by the smirk on her face, she must not find Phil’s domineering act intimidating at all. When their eyes met, her resolve seemed to crack. 

Sofia laughed, properly _laughed_ in response. Her laughter was so contagious that Dan found himself dissolving into loud, cackling laughter of his own. Phil’s grasp loosened on Dan’s shoulder, his gaze rapidly shifting from Dan to Sofia and back again. Dan watched Phil’s eyes narrow, his brow furrow in confusion, and it only served to spur on his laughter. 

“Oh god,” Sofia finally managed, her laughter fizzling into light giggles. She shook her head and turned her attention from Dan to Phil. “I can tell, Romeo. I’m not an idiot,” Sofia smirked knowingly, rolling her eyes. “Besides, I doubt my girlfriend would take kindly to me hitting on a random guy, even if it is Dan Howell.”

“Oh,” Phil muttered, sounding rather embarrassed and chagrined. His grip on Dan’s shoulder started to slip, retreating into himself, but Dan reached out to stop him. Dan’s hand landed on top of Phil’s and held it in place, fingers lightly thumbing over the back of his hand.

Without letting go of Phil, Dan turned his attention back to Sofia. “I’ll call. Definitely,” he promised. He nodded to the pile of makeup in front of him. “I haven’t got a clue what to do with any of that.”

“It’s not that hard, I promise.” Sofia straightened up, hitching her bag over her shoulder. “Now, your eyeliner and mascara aren’t waterproof. They’ll smudge if you’re too… rough on them.” There was a suggestive lit to her tone, a smirk playing at her lips.

Dan narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked warily.

“It means, they won’t survive any heavy making out, so unless you want to go on tv looking like a raccoon, I suggest you both keep it in your pants until the show is over.”

“Uh!” Dan screeched. His mouth dropped open in indignation, his hand falling from Phil’s in shock. “We’re not going to _fuck_ backstage right before I have to go on!”

“Tell your boyfriend that, not me,” Sofia pointed out cheekily as she leaned down to press a loud kiss to the top of Dan’s head. “Ttyl, boo.”

“Bye…” Dan said flatly, his mind still reeling at the absurd — but kind of hot — idea of him and Phil fucking in the Tonight Show dressing room. 

Dan waited until he heard the door click shut behind him before he found Phil’s gaze in the mirror again. Now that he was looking at him, Dan realized what Sofia was getting at — Phil’s pupils were blown wide, and Dan wasn’t sure if he was worked up _again_ or if he’d just never properly calmed down. A slow smile crept onto Dan’s face, and he couldn’t help but realize how much _more_ his cheeks seemed when he smiled with the blush on. 

Dan spun around in his chair, finally properly facing Phil. Sitting down, he only came up to the middle of Phil’s chest, and the height difference seemed shocking now that they were actually looking at each other. Dan tipped his head back so he could see Phil, his hands looping around Phil’s waist and shuffling him a hair closer. 

“See something you like, Philip?” Dan teased saucily, flashing what he hoped was a sexy smile up at Phil.

Phil’s hands settled onto Dan’s shoulders, sliding up until he was cupping either side of Dan’s neck. “Always,” Phil said, his voice several octaves lower than normal and dripping with sincerity.

A shiver ran down Dan’s spine, his stomach flipping over and his cheeks growing hot — it wasn’t a flush of arousal it was something.. more. Dan wasn’t sure if his reaction was from the sentiment or from the mushy tone, but regardless, he wrenched himself backward out of Phil’s grip.

“Gross,” he whined, aiming for appalled but falling short. He just sounded enamoured and he knew it. 

A sharp knocking at the door saved Dan from having to continue to try to mask how much Phil was flustering him. 

“Come in!” Dan called as Phil took a wide step back. 

The door cracked open and a harried young man poked his head around the door. “You’re on in fifteen, Mr. Howell. We’ll need you in the wings in ten.”

The man disappeared, pulling the door shut behind him before Dan even had the chance to ask questions.

“Well,” Dan said, nerves swelling up again. “I guess I better get to that coffee, huh?”

*************

The crowd was cheering so loudly when Jimmy called out Dan’s name that Dan nearly missed the entry cue from the stagehand.

As he walked out, the lights were practically blinding, and completely blocked out any proper view he could get of the audience — something Dan was rather grateful for, actually. Having to see people’s faces — being forced to register the individual people that were watching him — would probably be enough to make Dan lose his nerve.

Dan sped-walked his way to Jimmy’s desk, not nearly cool or confident enough to attempt the light jog that so many celebrities effortlessly pulled off in moments like this. Jimmy was already standing to greet him, his hand reaching out to shake Dan’s as soon as they were in arms’ reach.

The cheering was still loud, seemingly never-ending, as Dan and Jimmy settled themselves into their seats. Dan shook his leather jacket some, hoping it wasn’t laying in a weird fashion, and crossed an ankle over his opposite knee. Desperate for an outlet to expel his nervous energy, Dan’s hand landed on his knee, immediately beginning to tap a soundless melody.

“It’s great to have you back, Dan!” Jimmy called above the crowd. 

At Jimmy’s words, the cacophony of noise quieted down, everyone tuning in to listen to what Jimmy — and _Dan_ — had to say. 

“It’s great to be back!” Dan smiled widely. 

It wasn’t a lie, either. It _was_ great to be back. Of all the hosts and interviewers, Jimmy was easily the most fun and comfortable to work with. Not much pressure, a bit of games — it was the perfect combination. 

“You haven’t been on since — when was it? During your last tour?”

Dan nodded. “It was near the end of my American leg. Last February I think?”

“A lot’s been happening since then! You have a new album coming out soon!” Jimmy said enthusiastically. Even though Dan had known that was what Jimmy was going to open with, he was still _so_ grateful that they were starting with an easy topic. 

“I do!” Dan enthused, trying to match Jimmy’s tone. “It’s set to be available for preorder tomorrow, actually.”

“That’s fantastic!” Jimmy exclaimed as if he’d just remembered and Dan _hadn’t_ had the stagehand tell him three minutes before going live that the retailers had managed to set the sale up in the nick of time. “Does that mean you’ve named it then?”

“It’s called _Love Yourself_ ,” he said confidently with a strong nod of his head. He hesitated, just for a beat, before lifting his left hand from his knee, holding it in front of him and angling it so the camera could see his nails. “Actually, your wonderful makeup team painted some cute little hearts on my nails to help promo the album.”

On the small preview screen off stage, Dan watched one of the many cameras zoom in on his hand. 

There it was. Matte silver nail polish paired with jet black hearts. On display for the world to see.

That’s what tonight was about. Not every night for the rest of his life, but some nights. Some nights, Dan knew he wanted to be like this. There were times — award shows and special concerts and even cute dates — that he wanted to embrace this aesthetic. And he wanted the world to _see_ him embracing it. He wanted to fucking _demolish_ the gender roles that people tried to ascribe to him and the rest of society.

Fuck that bullshit.

He shifted his hand so that it was confidently laying across Jimmy’s desk. “Look at that artistry,” he said, wiggling his fingers. “Your makeup team deserves a serious raise.”

“Oh wow!” Jimmy looked at Dan’s nails with what appeared to be a genuine smile. Warily, Dan scrutinized Jimmy’s face, looking for that glint of dislike in his eyes, that crinkle of disgust in his forehead. 

Jimmy looked back up at Dan. There were none of the subtle signs of discomfort or hatred or distaste that Dan was cautiously accustomed to seeing when he defied gender roles, though. Jimmy was just… smiling. Smiling an actual, authentic smile. 

“I didn’t realize anyone on our makeup team was that artistic, maybe we should have them do a nail challenge sometime,” Jimmy proposed, the crowd screaming on cue. From past experience, Dan knew the crowd was probably cheering because they had strict instructions to support any ideas Jimmy threw out, but still. There was something about hearing a crowd be supportive of anything to do with nail polish when two _boys_ were talking about it. 

Dan flashed a smile at the crowd, pointedly waggling his painted fingertips. “I’d come back for that!” Dan offered good-naturedly.

“So, the album name — Love Yourself. How’d you come up with that?”

Dan dipped his finger inside the hole slashed across his knee, and ran his fingers back and forth across the course denim fabric. It was a nervous habit he had, one he did often, and it helped ground him a bit. 

“My friend,” Dan started, immediately proud of himself for not tripping up over the word _friend_. “It was just earlier this week actually. I was talking about some of the stuff in my life that has inspired parts of this album, and it was something he said and — I just knew.” 

“That’s great that your friends are a source of inspiration for you,” Jimmy said, sounding genuinely happy for Dan. “Is there any particular meaning behind the album?”

“A few actually.” Dan took a drink out of the Tonight Show mug provided for him. “My friend originally said it while I was talking about how much I’d been hurt by someone who isn’t in my life anymore, and I was like _damn_ , that’s so much better than the four letters I’ve been using.” Dan sent a cheeky wink at the camera. “But, on a deeper level, I’ve been unhappy for a while, and I’ve spent the beginning of this year trying to learn to be healthier and figure out what makes me happy. So the idea of calling it _Love Yourself_ , of having the title also be a reminder to take time to do what’s right for you, seemed like the perfect antithesis to the agony that started everything.”

“Holy cow, that’s a deep album title! Can we expect a song about either of those meanings?”

“You can expect lots of songs around those themes,” Dan replied vaguely. Honestly, he he’d been well excited about the prospect of a song called _Love Yourself_ since the words had come out of Phil’s mouth Monday night, but at the moment it was nothing more than an abstract idea.

“Now, I have to ask about the rest of the album,” Jimmy said as he turned back to face Dan, both of them settling back into their seats. “I heard you say that this is a concept album. That’s new for you!”

“It _is_ new!” Dan agreed, nodding his head in what he hoped looked like an excited — and not seizure-like — manner. “In the past, my music has always been inspired by my life, but it’s never been centered around a main theme before.”

“I don’t know that much about music, but it feels like not many artists make concept albums anymore.”

“Sadly it’s a dying art form,” Dan sighed regretfully. “Because of the way streaming and youtube and the radio work nowadays, there’s definitely a bigger pressure on artists to create songs that are catchy and repeatable, but not necessarily _meaningful_.”

“You’ve been on the show a few times before, and you’ve always said that meaning is important with your music.”

“Yeah, definitely!” Dan was both happy and surprised to hear that Jimmy remembered this detail. “I’ve never released a song that I didn’t write and create, but I’ve never created an album around a proper theme.”

“That’s great then, man. Congratulations!” Dan nodded back his thanks, letting Jimmy continue the conversation. “What inspired you to write it around a theme?”

“These past few months have been crazy — mostly in a good way. As some of you may know, I was dating a model — Isabella De La Renta — for awhile,” Dan paused while the crowd made a cacophony of noise. “Things were alright for awhile, but towards the end of that relationship, things really fell apart. I realized I was in that relationship for all of the wrong reasons.”

“I think we’ve all been there,” Jimmy nodded solemnly. “How’d you figure it out?” he asked, his voice as light as ever, nevermind the fact that he was asking a deeply personal and heavy question.

“Well —” Dan hesitated for just a second, swallowing thickly before continuing. “I actually became friends with someone, and it was such a great friendship that I realized — like, if just being _friends_ can be that good, my kind of sh— mediocre relationship wasn’t good enough anymore.”

“Okay, okay okay. I know I’m going to sound gossipy here,” Jimmy hinted, sending a look of mock seriousness at Dan. “But I’ve heard that’s just one part of the concept.”

“Um…” Dan chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah. Yeah, the, uh, not being happy in a relationship is only, like, the first third of the album.”

The crowd cheered, a mixture of excited and curious _woos_. 

“Well, Dan, I think it’s safe to say that me and the rest of the audience are interested in knowing about the other two-thirds!”

Since centering his album around a theme, Dan had gone on this rant so many times that the words were practically second nature by now. But talking about it in front of an audience that wasn’t just Louise or Phil or his fans made it much more difficult to get the words out. 

Dan’s fingers toyed at the hole in his jeans, undoubtedly making the rip larger. “Like I said, the past few months have been crazy. I actually met someone. Someone who I tried to convince myself was just a friend for a long time, but… well, I think if we look at the songs I wrote in the past few months, it’s clear that I had some feelings.” 

Dan’s eyes widened as he realized how that sounded out loud. The fucking cameras and pressure were getting to his head. 

“Feelings I didn’t _act_ on,” Dan clarified fiercely.

“I love it!” Jimmy smiled, leaning in closer again and turning to direct his attention to the camera.“It’s like you’re taking us all back to sixth grade or something,” he laughed, shifting his focus back to Dan. “So tell us. You had this crush. Then what?”

“Well, then… then I couldn’t keep going in this relationship, yeah? There were a lot of other reasons, too — reasons I don’t want to get into tonight, but I’m sure will come up at some point. So that’s kind of what the rest of the album is. That moment when you realize you want something that’s different than what you have, and then that moment when you decide to _go after_ what it is you want.”

“Now,” Jimmy said bluntly, his tone almost flat. “I don’t mean to sound like a stalker, but…”

Dan smirked. He knew where this was going. They’d talked about it beforehand — but even if they hadn’t, it was pretty obvious. 

Jimmy leaned forward a bit more, his hands making a wide, emphatic gesture. “...I think we all saw your instagram post from earlier this week.”

“Yeah, that.” Dan swallowed thickly. Dan turned his attention towards the audience, pointedly splitting his gaze between them and the camera — it was something Jimmy rarely did, something _guests_ didn’t even do more than in passing glances. But right now didn’t feel like a time to hide from public view. “Those of you who haven’t seen, I, uh, talked about my sexuality on instagram earlier this week.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Dan took a deep breath. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words _I came out_ in front of a live audience, especially on a show he knew would probably go viral. 

“We’ve got a copy of it here.” Jimmy held up a cardboard version of Dan’s post on his desk, letting the camera zoom in close. His voice was as light and cheerful as always. If someone was just listening to the tone, they’d never realize that Dan and him were talking about such a serious topic. “I have to say, I was so impressed when I saw your post — I thought it was so cool that you decided to color your lyrics with the, uh, what are they? Bisexual colors?”

“The bi-pride colors,” Dan offered, this time more confidently, as he eyed the jagged pink, purple and blue highlights on the card. He flicked his attention back to Jimmy. “Like I’ve said, this album is really personal and tackles the whole issue of wanting-and-then-going-for. For a while now, I’ve known that this album would never carry the weight I wanted it to if I didn’t talk about the sexuality part of it.”

Jimmy set the card to the side, turning his full attention back to Dan. “I did some reading on twitter, and it looks like a lot of people are really excited that you’re talking about being bisexual.”

“Yeah!” Dan smiled, genuinely happy about the reaction he’d gotten. He’d read some tweets too, and they’d brought tears to his eyes — both for how wonderfully supportive and kind his audience was, and for how fucking oppressive society as a whole was. But there was far more support than malice, and that definitely counted for something. “I don’t think I realized how scarce bi-representation really is in the media until I came out and saw fans making those kinds of comments.” _Came out_. There. He’d said it. 

“Now, I don’t mean to pry,” Jimmy promised. He sounded as neutral as possible, but still, Dan knew where this conversation was going — and he knew that Jimmy _was_ prying — he was just prying into a topic that Dan had preemptively agreed to talk about. “But I can’t help but to have noticed some accusations about your sexuality in the past few days.”

“Ha,” Dan forced out a single huff of laughter, but that was the best he could manage. “I’ve seen that too. It’s interesting how people think they know you better than you know yourself, huh?”

“It is, it is,” Jimmy sympathized, somehow managing to sound empathetic and entertaining all at once. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s seen De La Renta’s interview today.”

Dan dramatically tilted back in his chair, letting out an over-the-top groan. Shaking his head, he slid back up in his seat, drawing his heels up against his arse and leaning forward towards Jimmy. 

“Look,” Dan started eagerly. “They all tell you that your life is, like, weirdly on display when you’re in the public eye, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah of course. We all love The Enquirer, right?’ Jimmy asked with just enough sarcasm that it was clear Jimmy hated it just as much as Dan did.

“The thing _they_ ,” Dan emphasized, vaguely warning against the omniscient _they_ that his audience probably wasn’t so potently aware of. “...don’t warn you about is the absolute sh— madness of it all.” Dan corrected, once again cutting himself off from swearing at the last second. “I swear, the media just analyzes every faucet of your life without ever asking you what you think sometimes.”

“It happens to all of us!” Jimmy agreed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “But from what I saw, Isabella really seemed to imply that you were, well, only into guys, yeah?”

Dan had specifically asked for this to come up — he wanted to address it head on. And Jimmy was definitely doing a good job of working the subject in naturally. 

“She did!” Dan nodded meaningfully at the camera. “I know a lot of my followers keep up on or are a part of queer culture, and probably really caught onto the difference between me coming out as bi and Isabella talking about me being, well, gay.” Dan grimaced, and a smaller — but prominent — portion of the crowd groaned with him. 

“Certainly. What happened there?” Jimmy pushed, still somehow sounding light and casual.

Dan had thought a lot about how he wanted to handle this question, both tonight and in general. There would likely come a point where Dan would rebel against the inaccuracies that Isabella had waged against him, but tonight was not the night. 

“Honestly, it’s not something I’ve ever hid from partners — Isabella included. There’s a really big part of me that feels like sexuality is just… a box, right? Like, society just wants to be able to put you in the easiest box possible, and often gets frustrated when that box is different from the normal one or is difficult to define.” Dan paused, just for a beat, and ran an agitated hand through his curls. 

“But,” Dan continued fiercely. “I also realize that when you’re trying to build an intimate relationship with someone, that takes honesty and openness. So, yeah, I’ve always felt the need to really explicitly tell the people I’ve dated that I’m not straight, although I’ve wavered between labels over time and still do.” Dan shifted his gaze to the audience. “It’s a part of who I am — if they can’t accept it, it’s definitely a strain on the relationship.”

The _they_ no longer applied just to his romantic partners anymore. Now _they_ was his whole fanbase.

“I think a lot of our younger viewers can really relate to that.” 

Dan smiled with what he hoped was a reassuring smile at the camera. He reckoned a lot of people, not just younger viewers, could relate, but that wasn’t the hill he wanted to fight and die upon right now. 

Jimmy leaned forward on his elbows, then, his gaze never leaving Dan. “I think we can both agree it’s crazy, but Isabella really shared a _lot_ in that interview,” Jimmy said pointedly. Dan took a deep breath at the comment, anticipating where this conversation was headed. “She even hinted that you two had some problems in the bedroom.” 

“I saw that,” Dan winced dramatically, first sending a wounded look at Jimmy, then at the camera. “Seems like a pretty private thing to share,” Dan pointed out with an awkward chuckle. No matter how uncomfortable the topic was, though, he forced himself to face Jimmy — and the camera hovering to the right of his shoulder. This was a topic that deserved — that _needed_ — to be tackled head on. “Since it’s out there, though, I feel like I should defend myself.” 

Even though Dan’s attention was half-focused on the cameras, he saw the way Jimmy’s eyebrows shot up in the viewfinder. “Remember were on at an earlier time slot now,” Jimmy teased, an edge of warning in his voice. Dan rolled his eyes good-naturedly, rather amused that _Jimmy_ was the one to bring up sex, and now he was telling _Dan_ to be careful with the topic. 

Chuckling, Dan tried to quickly remember the PG way he’d planned to talk about his and Isabella’s sex life. After a few seconds’ hesitation, Dan licked his lips and hesitantly started to explain. “Like she said, things were great for a while, but towards the end, uh, _some stuff_ kind of stopped.”

Dan shifted his attention from Jimmy, instead turing to face the audience and cameras dead-on. What he had to say — he didn’t want it to get buried in conversation. He wanted every _single_ fucking person who watched tonight’s program to get his message loud and clear.

With a final gulp, Dan forced himself to continue as confidently as possible. “I hate the implication that _it_ stopped because she’s a girl — that idea really feeds into the bi-erasure that’s a huge problem in society. The truth is, I was slowly coming to terms with the fact that I wanted someone else, and I guess I just didn’t feel right doing… physical stuff if I wasn’t in it romantically anymore.”

“Bi-erasure,” Jimmy noted. “I’ve seen you talk about that in some of your twitter replies. Can you tell the audience and I more about that?”

Dan shuffled again, this time shifting to sit cross-legged in his chair. Nodding, he took a sip out of his mug again as he mentally prepared what he wanted to say — _this_ he hadn’t asked Jimmy to bring up, but Dan was so, _so_ glad that Jimmy had.

“Society has this tendency to think in binaries,” Dan started hesitantly, gaining confidence as he pieced together his inner thoughts. He tipped forward, elbows on his knees, hands gesticulated wildly. “Like, people are _boy or girl_ , morals are _black or white_ , sexuality is _gay or straight_. But that’s not how the real world works. People aren’t always male or female — there’s an entire population of genderqueer folks. More often than not, morals are ambiguous and fall somewhere in the grey zone. And sexuality, that’s not a binary either. And for some reason, people have a hard time wrapping their minds around that.”

Jimmy looked like he might say something, but Dan barreled on. “Like Isabella said in that interview, I’ve had girls worry that I wasn’t going to be forever satisfied because they didn’t have a — _you know_ ,” Dan said pointedly, not sure if he could say _penis_ on American television. “But the prejudice doesn’t always stop inside of the queer community, either. I’ve had guys — guys that I was in proper relationships with — tell me that I wasn’t _gay_ enough for them.” Dan shook his head, clearing _those_ memories from his head. “I don’t want to overgeneralize, not everyone is like this, but it’s a real and pervasive problem.”

Eyes wide, Jimmy looked at Dan with a slightly taken-aback look. It wasn’t a _bad_ taken-aback — it was the kind of taken-aback that made it clear that Jimmy had _never_ thought about the point Dan was making and was doing so now. 

It was the kind of taken-aback that Dan was striving to make half the world feel tonight. 

“Honestly, as someone who is straight, I’ve never realized that this was such a big issue.” Jimmy’s face was morphing into a more concerned and caring expression. “What words of advice do you have for people dating bisexuals?”

Dan’s brow furrowed, but only for a second. The answer was easier than he’d anticipated. 

He turned, directly addressing the audience and camera. “If you’re dating someone who is attracted to more than one gender — whether they are bi or pan or demi or something else I should know but am forgetting — remember that we really aren’t different from you. Sure, our selection pool is a bit wider, but that means we picked you out of _all_ the people. Your gender or sex have nothing to do with why we fell in love with you. If you identified as the opposite gender or had the opposite parts, we still would have fallen in love with you. To me, that sounds like a _compliment_ , not something to be afraid of.”

There was a soft _ahhh_ from a substantial portion of the audience — not all of them, but enough.

“When you put it that way, I think it’ll be hard for people to not agree with you.” Jimmy said with a smile, sounding rather congratulatory.

“As much as I wish that were true, Jimmy, that’s not always the case.”

There was a split second of shock in Jimmy’s eyes — he must not have expected Dan to be so bluntly honest about the topic. But he recovered quickly, offering Dan a kind smile. “Maybe not always or everyone, but with advocates like you speaking out with knowledge and pride, maybe the needle can move some.”

Jimmy was right — Dan couldn’t make absolutely everyone everywhere understand, but even in his small private circle, he’d moved the metaphorical needle. He dad had stopped thinking of him as _gay_ years ago. Several partners were comfortable with it after discussion. If patience and talking and resilience could make a difference with the people in Dan’s life, then maybe it could make a difference on the larger scale, too. At least with some of them.

God damn it, he was going to try. 

Dan batted his eyelashes, deliberately hoping to draw attention to his makeup. “Maybe,” Dan agreed with determination. 

Behind the camera, he could see the director motioning for them to wrap it up.

“Thank you for sharing with us!” Jimmy said to Dan, sounding a bit showier than he had for the past several minutes. Without waiting for Dan’s response, Jimmy shifted his attention to the camera. “After the break, we’ll play a fan-favorite game. And stay tuned for later, because Dan is going to perform a brand-new song from his album!”

The commercial almost felt like a relief after the high pressure, high stakes conversations they’d been having that were set to air on cable television. Dan knew the cameras were still rolling, that the light conversations they were having would end up in a youtube video, but the mood was far more relaxed. It was a much needed break after such an intense interview.

The _3-2-1_ countdown from the crew jolted Dan out of the more pleasant atmosphere, quickly putting him back on his toes.

“Welcome back to the show, everybody! Tonight I am here with Daniel Howell!” Jimmy yelled. Dan waved, trying to offer a smile that matched Jimmy’s enthusiasm, but he doubted that anyone who didn’t make their living on late night tv could possibly come close. “For those of you who missed the first part of the show, Dan has a new album, Love Yourself, available for preorder tomorrow!” Jimmy paused, letting the audience clap and show their support. “And if any of you have been living under a rock, Dan recently came out as bisexual.”

The cheering grew louder, and Dan’s heart fucking _melted_. Sure, the audience was pretty much contractually obligated to cheer at whatever Jimmy announced about his guests, but they didn’t _have_ to cheer louder for Dan’s sexuality than his music.

And yet, they were. 

“So Dan,” Jimmy said, turning his attention from the cameras to Dan. “You’ve said this announcement is a step towards being more open with your audience.”

“That’s right, Jimmy. Trying to live my truth and whatnot,” Dan smirked cheekily.

“Well, we’ve got a little game we play here on The Tonight Show, one that might help you with that.”

“Oh you do, do you?” Dan played along, despite knowing exactly where this bit was going. 

“I consider myself a fairly honest person, too, but I want to know who is _more_ honest.” Jimmy turned dramatically to the camera. “It’s time to play… Truth… or _Truth_.”

The “Truth or Truth” jingle played so loudly that it genuinely did make Dan jump. He exhaled dramatically, feigning a look of terror and determination. “I’m nervous,” Dan warned dramatically. 

Jimmy waved his hand, mock bowing to Dan. “You can ask me first then,” Jimmy offered with overstated sincerity.

Dan wiggled in his seat, shifting to the very edge of it and propping his elbows on Jimmy’s desk. “Alright then, Fallon, choose wisely,” Dan advised gravely, his head coming to rest in his hands. “Truth... or truth?”

Matching Dan’s stance, Jimmy cradled his chin in his hands, his elbows landing on the desk and sliding forward until they bumped against Dan’s. “I think I better pick… truth,” Jimmy decided, his face just centimeters from Dan’s.

Dan pumped his eyebrows a single time, a small smirk on his face. “If you could only wear one article of clothing for the rest of your life, what would it be.”

“Easy,” Jimmy answered, pulling back from their close-quarters staring contest. “Socks. So my feet don’t get cold.”

A snort of laughter forced its way out of Dan — it was probably ridiculously unattractive, but he was trying so hard to keep his face impassive and sincere. Swallowing down any remaining laughter, Dan nodded seriously as he appraised Jimmy’s answer. 

Jimmy leaned back in, his eyes exaggeratedly narrowed into slits. “Daniel. James. Howell. Truth… or _truth_?” he asked, his palms slapping the desk. 

Melodramatically, Dan pulled back, collapsing against his chair. “If I have to pick…” Dan pretended to waffle as he ran a tense hand down his face. “... Truth.”

“What do you consider…” Jimmy wiggled his head around in what would probably be a dramatic fashion if it was less absurd. “...to be the perfect date?” 

Dan perked back up. “Mario Kart,” he answered confidently. His tongue darted out to lick his lips and he waggled his eyebrows absurdly. “Just me… Peach… and Luigi.” Dan rested one arm on the desk, leaning his cheek into his fist. Coyly, Dan flicked his gaze up at Jimmy. “Driving all. Night. Long.” 

Hints of a smile pulled at Jimmy’s face, and he ducked his head before schooling his expression back into a serious gaze. “Hit me, Howell,” Jimmy said seriously.

“Not until after the show, Jimmy,” Dan teased brazenly, winking saucily.

His sudden cheekiness seemed to catch them both off guard, and they both struggled to hold in their laughter. Somehow, Jimmy seemed closer to properly _losing it_ than Dan — maybe that said something about Dan’s sexual preferences. Not necessarily a bad thing.

With a sharp swallow, Dan found his composure again and looked Jimmy in the eye. “For now though, truth or truth?”

“I suppose…” Jimmy trailed off, sighing and dropping his head backwards, like he was looking to the heavens for help. “Truth?”

Dan wiggled his fingers evilly. “If tomorrow was going to be your last show… who would you want to be your guest?”

Shiftily, Jimmy’s eyes darted back and forth. “Nicolas Cage,” he said at last. Dan quirked an eyebrow, silently urging him to explain. “Because I wouldn’t want anyone to outshine me.”

A burst of laughter bubbled in Dan’s throat, but he forced himself to stay calm. It wasn’t easy, not when Jimmy was leering at him like that. Dan nodded once, trying to look satisfied with Jimmy’s answer. 

“Truth or truth?” Jimmy asked, almost aggressive, the words coming out in a fast jab.

Feeding of Jimmy’s abrupt energy, Dan quickly responded, “Truth.”

Jimmy clapped once. His hands loudly fell to the desk immediately after, almost sounding like an echo of the clap. “What was your dream birthday party as a kid?”

Dan’s eyes flickered down to his lap as he formulated a response, his lips nearly tipping up into a smile. Head still down, Dan gazed up at Jimmy through his eyelashes. “I don’t know. No one ever showed up.”

Jimmy’s eyes clamped shut and he shook his head with mock-pity. “And suddenly everything makes sense.”

“Ouch!” Dan exclaimed, one hand flying to his heart. Recovering, Dan readjusted and tilted forward again. “Your last turn, what’s it going to be?” Dan asked challengingly. “Truth or… _truth_?” 

“I think this time…” Jimmy drummed his fingers on the desk, pausing for a few full seconds. “I’ll go with… _truth_.” 

Sinisterly, Dan rapped his fingers his chin, subtly showing off his nail polish some more. “Alright, now be honest. What was your best subject in school?”

Jimmy nodded slowly, seeming to think over Dan’s question intensely. “Detention.”

Dan’s fingers slid up to cover his lips, hiding the grin that was threatening to break out. Aborted laughter nearly choked him, his breath coming hard. For some reason, Dan’s mind had conjured up an image of Jimmy in the kind of Catholic-school detention that he’d only seen in movies, Nun, ruler and all. 

Eyes narrowing, Jimmy leaned forward in mock-seriousness. The corners of his mouth were quivering as his lips threatened to turn upwards into a smile. Dan prepared himself for whatever absurd thing Jimmy was about to say.

“So Dan,” Jimmy started slowly. “When you go on tour... top... or bottom... bunk?

A huff of laughter bubbled up in Dan’s throat, but he managed to swallow it down before it ruined his stoic expression. 

Jimmy’s lips were pulling up into a smile — it was clear he knew _exactly_ what he’d asked.

“Depends… how I’m feeling.” Dan responded just as slowly, a mischievous glint in his eye. Very deliberately, he darted his tongue out, wetting his bottom lip. “I like... to switch it up.”

And there it was. He’d just told the entire world that he liked to bottom (and top). 

Jimmy, for his part, completely broke out of his somber facade and broke down in laughter. The tension seemed to completely snap, and laughing was suddenly the only thing Dan could do too. Their laughter fed into each other, and just when they started to collect themselves, their eyes met and they started laughing again.

Pointedly turning away from Dan, Jimmy addressed the camera. “Well here you have it, Dan Howell is flexible about what bed he sleeps in. That was truth or truth, everyone! After the break, Dan will perform a new song off his album.”

Unlike the last “commercial break”, the main set lights flickered off and everyone rushed into a flurry of movement to prepare the set for Dan’s performance. The desk and chairs were whisked away, Jimmy moved to the side of the stage, a microphone stand appeared out of nowhere. 

Dan almost didn’t feel like he didn’t have time to breathe.

The show may not air live, but the crew clearly didn’t waste any time when the cameras weren’t rolling. Before Dan knew it, a random stage-hand was pulling him into place, positioning him in front of a microphone and handing him his guitar.

“Check, check,” a girl said into the microphone, the sound of the mic carrying throughout the entire studio. Strumming a random cord, Dan checked his guitar, too, finding it was picked up nicely. The opening two chords of the studio-recorded accompanying music played. 

Everything sounded fine, exactly as it had earlier during rehearsals. Now all that was left was to actually _perform_.

Dan took a shaky breath. He wasn’t normally one for stage-fright or nerves, but he was still riding a tsunami of emotions from today’s article, from Isabella’s slander, from her cheating, from _everything_. 

Over the loudspeakers, Dan heard Jimmy introduce him, but Dan was too wrapped up in his own mind to process what he was saying. 

The lights blasted back on. The time had come.

Dan stepped forward, closing the small distance between him and the mic. “Thank you for having me, New York!” 

The crowd cheered loudly, and Dan took a deep breath while they calmed down.

“Toxic relationships suck — I would know. They bring out the worst in both partners, and it usually just blows up from there. I recently got out of a really toxic relationship with my ex-girlfriend, Isabella De La Renta. I’m sure some of you have read her side of the story. This is mine.”

Dan took a deep breath, swinging his guitar into place. “This song is called _Tell me I’m a Wreck_.”

Dan strummed the opening cords on his guitar.

 _“I could have been easier on you,”_ he started singing, opening the song with an apology.

He knew he hadn’t been a perfect boyfriend to Isabella — in so, _so_ many ways, he’d been a downright _ass_ to her, actually. In hindsight, he’d never fucking cared about her. When they’d fought, he’d fought dirty — something he especially recognized now after his first fight with Phil. And sure, maybe she’d fought dirty, too, but that didn’t mean Dan had to. He didn’t like who he’d been inside that relationship.

But it wasn’t just that. Isabella had steadily driven Dan to dislike _himself_ , himself as an entire person. 

_“I’m struggling to see the better side of me.”_

Slowly but surely, her jabs and taunts and the way she’d pointed out his every flaw had begun to unwind years of therapy and progress towards mental stability. Looking back at the end of last year, Dan could now so clearly see that he was on the brink of diving back into another depressive episode. 

It was no wonder he’d walked away. Not when...

_“When you tell me I'm a wreck, You say that I'm a mess.”_

Honestly, if Isabella was such a self-absorbed _bitch_ , he’d be surprised that she wasn’t expecting this. 

He’d tried to be upfront with her, he really had. Hell, he’d flat out _told_ her that he wasn’t looking for a serious relationship, that he wasn’t looking to _settle down_ with her. 

And yet, Isabella had the fucking _nerve_ to shout to the world that _Dan_ had fucked _her_ over somehow.

But only after begging him to take her back, of course. She clearly didn’t know him at all if she had seriously thought that there was any chance in hell of that working.

_“Remember on my twenty-third birthday, you took me where we went on our first date,”_

Dan honestly couldn’t think of a single good memory with her — and not in the way that memories become tainted once a relationship is over. This felt more like _clarity_ , like he was finally able to look back on memories he’d _thought_ were positive and see them for what they really were: unstable and unhappy. Toxic.

Looking back, Dan recalled the ends to the nights he once had considered _perfect dates_. He now saw how imperfect they really were, realized how they’d all ended in fights — usually pointless arguments that Isabella picked, but sometimes he was the culprit, too. 

_“We stayed til closing time. After four glasses of wine, You started up a pointless argument!”_

That wasn’t the kind of relationship he wanted, not at all. He’d made it clear, as clear as he could anyway, that he wasn’t in it for the long haul. And yet, there was that night when they were at dinner with his parents and she was dropping hints about fucking _wedding rings._

_“Whatever made you think we were meant to be?”_

Not when she constantly belittled him, not when she made him feel like shit about every part of himself. Not when she had _heard_ him say it wouldn’t last.

Sure, maybe she was screaming to the world about how badly Dan had wronged her, but Dan was willing to bet ever pence in his bank account that if he went to her tomorrow and offered to get back together, she’d say yes.

And maybe some part of her even believed that if she shouted loud enough, that if she screamed enough slanderous things, Dan would take her back just to shut her up.

But then again, 

_“I guess you never knew me at all.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like and reblog on tumblr 
> 
>  
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> truth or truth video example 
> 
>  
> 
> tell me i'm a wreck by every avenue   
> and thanks to the anon who suggested this song like fourteen years ago :)


	32. ly 32 (16,953)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um so this is like a month overdue... but it's long af. and i've cut _down_ what was going to go in this chapter. i hope it is worth the wait  <3
> 
> massive thanks as always to @auroraphilealis for being my biffle, beta, and cheerleader. she's been by my side as a beat this chapter to death and listened to a million rambles of why it was important to me to keep it all together (which i only mostly ended up doing) and other pretentious shit. she's wonderful xx
> 
> **note: this chapter contains more explicit themes than past ones. unlike past chapters, outside of the marked smut, there is risque material. skim at your own discretion if you are uncomfortable, but it wasn't set up in a way i could mark ******

By the time filming had finally ended, Dan felt emotionally fucking _exhausted._ Being so open and honest on national television, and having to be so careful with his words, had drained him of just about everything. There wasn’t an ounce of propriety left in him, and at this point, all he wanted was to be taken care of and not have to fucking _think_ for a little bit. 

Letting go — whatever that meant — was impossible on set. From the second he’d finished performing his song and had ducked backstage, he’d been craving a hug from Phil — a proper hug, not the one-armed bro-hug Phil had given him. But stagehands were running everywhere, and there didn’t seem to be a bloody _centimeter_ of privacy, so Dan resisted. The minute he got in the uber, he could collapse against Phil.

But for now, resting his foot against Phil’s as he stood behind the stage wall would have to suffice. Dan closed his eyes, replaying his interview in his head as he listened to the loud hum of the audience laughing and applauding and — _holy fuck_. He’d actually just done that. He’d actually talked about his most personal matters, something he’d taken great lengths to keep secret, in front of all of those people. The studio held what? Two hundred people? 

Two hundred people who were now privy to Dan’s rambling thoughts about sexuality and boxes, who now had a whole fountain of knowledge about Dan’s sexual and romantic preferences. Two hundred people who had seen Dan be open and vulnerable and honest.

The gravity of the interview smacked Dan in the face, and that’s when he realized, really truly _realized_ , that those two hundred people were just the beginning. In a few short hours, that interview would play on national American tv, would stream on youtube worldwide. And sure, he had known that while he was filming, but he hadn’t _known_. Not in the way it was all hitting him now.

Dan swallowed thickly and let his hand brush against Phil’s. He wanted out of here. He wanted a hug. He wanted to think about anything other than this interview, his fate, his audience, just for a little bit anyway. 

The twenty minutes it took to get an _all clear_ lasted about five years. Dan was so on edge and ready to leave that he was already ordering a car before a stagehand had even finished dismissing them. Without waiting for proper goodbyes, Dan seized Phil’s wrist and dragged him out of the studio, down the lift, out the back door — and not the back door that fans often waited for celebrities at, either.

Dan felt a wave of relief rush through him when he burst out of the exit and found a black car already stalled next to the curb. Rushing over to the car, Dan wrenched open the back door and ushered Phil inside.

The relief coursing through Dan’s veins ran cold when the driver greeted him though. The way he confirmed Dan’s name, the breathlessness in his voice and the distinct spark in his eye — they were the unmistakable signs that someone recognized him.

Perhaps the ride back to the hotel wouldn’t be as relaxing as Dan had hoped.

Still, Dan shuffled in after Phil, leaving the full space of the middle seat between them. And less than a block later, Dan’s hunch was proven right when the driver asked which show he had been recording for at Rockefeller Center.

Not wanting to actually engage with this stranger, Dan grunted a reply and made a show of putting in his headphones, even though he didn’t actually play any music. It may have been rude, but it worked. The driver didn’t ask any follow up questions.

Of course, that didn’t stop his gaze from flickering into the rear view mirror every other bloody _second_. Dan felt like an animal in a glass box, on display and on edge. Phil was _right there_ , but Dan didn’t feel like he could reach out, not under such intense observation.

Like Dan had told himself and Phil _and_ Louise a million times, tonight was about talking about bisexuality, about giving that topic all the attention it deserved, not about him and Phil. The last thing Dan wanted was to have their relationship inadvertently outed by a random crew member or uber driver.

So Dan held back. Instead of sinking into his boyfriend’s side and letting himself get lost in _Phil_ , Dan stayed on his side of the backseat and fell prey to one of the most volatile coping strategies he had — the internet.

Dan googled the average number of viewers of The Tonight Show and discovered it was over two million a night — and that wasn’t including the extra views that youtube brought in. And that, naturally, brought Dan to his next google search, where he discovered that The Tonight Show’s youtube channel had a whopping nineteen _million_ subscribers. Subscribers who would undoubtedly have access to Dan’s rants about bisexuality, and his recently failed relationship, in just a few hours time. 

Overwhelmed by the sheer _significance_ of everything, Dan spread his legs obnoxiously far apart so that one knee pressed into Phil’s. Phil nudged back deliberately, a silent reassurance of his presence, a subtle demonstration of his support.

It wasn’t the bear hug Dan craved, but it was enough for now. The slight pressure of Phil’s leg against his own helped Dan stay grounded as he switched gears and fell down a wikipedia black hole about most viewed celebrity interviews. Unsurprisingly, videos about famous entertainers coming out were high on the list. 

Right. No pressure there.

By the time the car pulled up to the hotel, Dan’s desire for real physical contact had developed into flat out desperation. He just needed this goddamn weight to ease back for a fucking _minute._

Without waiting for Phil, Dan hiked his backpack over his shoulder and bolted into the hotel, through the lobby, and straight to the lifts.

It seemed to take bloody _forever_ for a lift to actually arrive, but it took even _longer_ for Phil to catch up. Dan had to pass on two elevators before he finally saw Phil entering the hotel, lumbering awkwardly across the lobby, weighed down with Dan’s guitar. 

_Oops._

In Dan’s haste to make it to their room, he’d forgotten that his guitar — his _favorite_ guitar — was in the trunk. Eyeing Phil’s lopsided stance, Dan grimaced and took a small step towards him. 

“Sorry,” Dan said apologetically as he pressed the _up_ button for the third time. “Lemme take that,” he offered, reaching out for the worn handle of his guitar case. 

With absolutely none of the coordination that Dan had developed over the years, Phil switched the guitar to his opposite hand, suddenly making it much harder for Dan to easily swipe it out of his grip. 

“Ph _illll_ ,” Dan whined, reaching across Phil’s body for the handle. 

“Da _nnnnnn_ ,” Phil retaliated as he stuck his tongue out and held the guitar even further out of Dan’s reach. His bicep was quaking, and his body definitely wasn’t used to the extra awkwardly large weight, but Dan couldn’t help appreciating how fucking _sexy_ it was that, for the first time in ages, he had someone that was willing — determined, even — to carry Dan’s shit. 

The bell on another lift finally _dinged_ , and the doors opened. Dan’s attention snapped from Phil’s playful face to the empty lift. Relief rushing in just by the sheer _presence_ of the lift, Dan gestured for Phil to take the lead. Luckily, it was that in-between time of night when most people were at dinner or something of the sort, and they had the lift to themselves. Dan took advantage of the brief moment of privacy and stepped in close to Phil, his knuckles gently brushing against Phil’s hand, the loving fingers that were inexpertly wrapped around the handle of Dan’s heavy guitar.

“Thanks,” Dan murmured, the teasingly childish tone suddenly vanishing, and a disgustingly sweet one taking over. In what he hoped wasn’t too cheesy of a move, Dan closed the small distance between them and pressed a chaste kiss to Phil’s cheek. 

Brows furrowed, Phil cocked his head at Dan. “Dan, it’s just a guitar, I don’t mind.”

“Mmm,” Dan hummed, stepping back to his place. He watched the numbers climb as they passed floor after floor, observing Phil out of the corner of his eye. Phil was quiet, but shot Dan an odd look, his expression a mix of pointed and sad. It utterly baffled Dan for a second — until he remembered their conversation from yesterday morning, that was. 

Phil didn’t have to say a word, Dan could practically hear him pointing out that his reaction was a bit unhealthy. Appreciation was fine, sure, but the amount of _surprise_ he felt at a partner doing something so simplistically nice probably didn’t speak highly of his past relationships. 

Wanting _out_ of that moment before Phil could force Dan to properly think about his reaction, Dan darted out of the lift as soon as the doors opened and hurried down the hallway. Behind him, Phil’s footsteps echoed down the hallway, pausing just out of reach when Dan came to a halt outside of their door and fumbled to find his room key.

Maybe nerves or exhilaration or exhaustion was still gripping Dan, or maybe it was the knowledge that he had Phil and a hotel room and a foreign city all to himself tonight, but it took him three tries of swiping their card before the light finally flickered green.

The _click_ of the latch was a wave of relief, and Dan found himself shoving their door open with far more force and enthusiasm than was necessary. Without waiting for Phil, Dan barrelled into their room and crossed the space in three quick strides, coming to a stop in front of their bed and spinning around to stare impatiently at Phil.

 _Fucking finally_ , they were alone.

Phil was a few steps behind him, and didn’t seem to have any of the urgency that Dan had. Dan watched anxiously as Phil walked towards him at the pace of an impregnated, fat _sloth_. Carefully, and _ungodly slowly_ , Phil sat the guitar down in front of the bed and finally, _finally_ his hands were free.

Dan didn’t wait for Phil to straighten up before launching himself into Phil’s arms, physically _demanding_ to be held. The sudden weight of Dan threw Phil off balance, causing him to stumble backwards towards the bed.

“Oi,” Phil gasped as he tumbled to the bed, just barely managing to not fall all the way onto his back under Dan’s momentum. Even as he fell, his hands landed on Dan’s hips and pulled him down to the bed too. Just for a moment, Dan found himself awkwardly leaning into Phil, not quite sitting, not quite standing.

With a flustered giggle, Dan shifted his body so he was straddling Phil’s lap instead. Dan’s hands slid up from Phil’s waist, and looped around his neck, finally pulling him into the private and intimate embrace Dan had been dying for. 

“Well hello there,” Phil greeted, his hands dipping under the hem of Dan’s jumper, his fingers thumbing over the jut of Dan’s hipbone. Phil’s voice was low, and his touch was sultry, and Dan couldn’t hold back a shaky sigh. He felt so damn _needy_ , and the soft drag of Phil’s fingers on his bare skin was already quieting his screaming mind some.

Dan shifted back up, just enough so that he could look Phil in the eye. The cheeky and smug look on Phil’s face wasn’t surprising — maybe someday Phil would stop looking so satisfied about the reactions he pulled from Dan, but they clearly weren’t there yet.

“Hi,” Dan responded with a smile, not even bothering to hide the effect Phil was having on him. Dan tipped his head forward, closing the small distance between them, and pressed his lips to Phil’s. 

Despite Phil’s teasing tone, he let Dan take what he wanted, matching Dan kiss for kiss and touch for touch. Dan wasn’t sure who licked whose lips first, who opened their mouth for who first. He did, however, realize that it only took a short minute for them to escalate from sweet kisses to proper snogging.

Before they could get too carried away, Dan pulled back, panting slightly. Even though he needed a decent lung capacity for singing, it seemed that kissing Phil for two minutes stole his breath in a way that a long high note never could. 

“Where’s — the room service — menu?” Dan asked, his words coming in pants as his gaze drifted to the bedside table and then the desk, searching for a helpful booklet.

Phil fingers slipped down from the middle of Dan’s waist to the low hem of his pants. His brows furrowed and he cocked his head to the side. “Why?” he asked. 

Huffing an exaggerated sigh, Dan shot Phil an incredulous look. “Because I’ve had a crazy fucking day and would like to let loose a little…?” After knowing Phil for nearly three full months, Dan was rather surprised to have to point out the obvious to him.

“Well yeah,” Phil huffed and cleared his throat. His pupils were blown wide, and now it was Dan’s turn to feel pleased with himself; he might be a mess from two minutes of kissing Phil, but Phil was just as flustered after two minutes of kissing Dan. “I know that much.” Phil rolled his eyes and slid his hands out of Dan’s trousers to a less scandalous spot, tracing his thumbs lightly Dan’s prominent hip bones. “I just meant, I’m surprised that you don’t want to go out since we only have a few nights here.”

Dan shrugged, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth as he contemplated Phil’s comment. He’d definitely had some great nights in the bars of New York, but they’d all come with the unfortunate price tag of at least half a dozen paparazzi photos. That wasn’t what Dan wanted tonight — tonight he just wanted Phil.

Tentatively, Dan let his hands drift from Phil’s shoulders up to his bare neck, his thumbs softly rubbing along Phi’s pulse points. “I mean… It’s not that I don’t _want_ to enjoy New York, I just…” Dan couldn’t help the way his gaze drifted down from Phil’s, landing instead on his lips. Coyly — or at least he hoped it was coy and sexy — Dan slipped his hands down Phil’s neck and under the collar of his button-up shirt. “I’d rather not be bothered by a fan or the media tonight, ya know?” Just in case the meaning behind his words wasn’t clear enough, Dan dipped his thumb further down Phil’s shirt and grazed his collarbone suggestively. 

“Mmm, that’s fair,” Phil murmured. Taking Dan’s lead, Phil’s hands nudged up higher on Dan’s hips, pushing his leather jacket and tight jumper up even higher so Phil’s fingers could brush over the bare skin near the top of Dan’s ribs. “But what if I told you I knew a place where we’d be left alone?”

Cocking an eyebrow, Dan straightened up. He’d been in New York. He’d been to elite clubs, he’d been to dive bars, he’d been to locals only restaurants — and on every occasion, he’d been photographed. In his experience, this was a city of famous people, and in turn, that meant it was a city of photographs and tabloids, a city of journalists searching for their next break.

“What kind of place is this?” Dan asked skeptically.

“Well,” Phil bit his lip, suddenly looking a little hesitant. “Technically it’s a gay club. But the standard cover is high enough to keep out most fans, and they’ve got an absurd amount of security, just in case.”

“How do you know about a place like that?” Dan pried; he’d been to New York half a dozen times and he’d never heard of any exclusive gay clubs. But even as Dan questioned Phil’s knowledge, he could feel the excitement growing in his stomach. He hadn’t been to a proper gay bar since he was seventeen, and never with a partner — at least not someone who wasn’t just a fling. He couldn’t deny that the idea was hotter than hell. 

“Oh. Uh, well,” Phil shrugged awkwardly, sounding shifty. His eyes darted away from Dan’s, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Another gay youtuber has a friend who is a bouncer there?” he explained, but he sounded so unsure that it came out as a question. 

Dan eyed Phil suspiciously. “How jealous should I be of this guy right now?”

“Of Tyler? Not at all. No way. Never.” Phil shook his head vehemently, his gaze flicking back to Dan. 

“And Tyler is…?” Dan prompted slowly, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head. 

“He’s just a casual friend who lives in LA. We collaborate when we’re in the same city,” Phil shrugged.

Dan narrowed his eyes skeptically. “And the bouncer?” he pushed, sensing that there was _something_ that Phil wasn’t admitting. 

Phil’s gaze shifted to the side again, his cheeks growing red. The grip on Dan’s chest slipped, Phil’s hands dropping down to the base of Dan’s hips.

Dan’s heart followed Phil’s hands, plummeting down into his stomach and then somehow sinking even further. Just from Phil’s reaction, Dan knew he’d figured it out. 

“It was one time and really didn’t matter,” Phil admitted, sounding defeated, embarrassed. “But he’ll let us both in for free and there won’t be cameras there.”

Dan was surprised to find that he wasn’t just jealous, he was almost repulsed. His stomach churned as his brain supplied images of Phil and some gorgeous boy tangled in bed together, making him feel nauseous. 

“I’m not sure I want to meet a guy you’ve fucked,” Dan said, aiming for teasing and joking, but as soon as he said it, he was sure the insecurity shined through. “I mean, what if he’s cuter than me?” Dan chuckled half-heartedly, doing his best to salvage his dignity. He really didn’t want Phil to think he was a jealous dick or clingy or something else completely annoying. Even if it was kind of true.

Phil laughed — genuinely laughed, not an awkward chuckle like before. “First off,” he started, his voice _actually_ light and humorous, not forced casual like Dan’s. “There’s no way anyone has ever, or could ever, be cuter than you. Not that I'm aiming to find someone else.” As if to prove his point, Phil’s fingers dipped into Dan’s jeans and pointedly hooked under his pants. It wasn’t just a little this time; now Phil’s hands were properly inside of Dan’s pants, his fingers inching towards more intimate parts of Dan’s body. “And second off,” Phil continued, “I suffered through two months of knowing you were sleeping with someone else. I think five seconds of interaction with a random guy I slept with a year ago doesn’t compare.”

“Uh!!” Dan gasped in protest, his voice high pitched and offended. “I didn’t sleep with her for the last month and you know it!”

“Yeah, _now_ I know,” Phil agreed begrudgingly. “But I didn’t then and I was so damn envious.” Phil licked his lips slowly. “Plus,” he added, his voice lower and gruff. “You _were_ sleeping with her in the beginning, and I had to watch you come in with marks all up and down your neck that proved it.” As if to make his point, Phil dragged his fingers along Dan’s sensitive neck possessively, thumbing over the spot where coverup was hiding a hickey on Dan’s pulse point. 

Dan’s stomach twisted in reaction, and a shiver ran down his back — whether it was the clear jealous attitude or the cursing that was turning him on, he wasn’t sure. There was a part of him that was willing to forfeit embracing any amount of New York tonight, that wanted to rock his hips forward and show Phil just how little reason he had to be jealous now, to take full advantage of the nice hotel room they had. 

“Come on, let me take you out, buy you a few drinks. Maybe a nice dinner first, if you’re hungry,” Phil pleaded.

There was another part of Dan — an unexpectedly _bigger_ part of him — that was itching to go out with Phil, to find a different way to show Phil that Dan was all his, even if it wasn’t the approach he was used to. And besides, after so many months of being _dragged_ out by his ex, something in Dan couldn’t help finding the fact that _Phil_ wanted to take _him_ out, just for the sake of being together, incredibly sexy. 

“Alright,” Dan agreed, conceding even as he let his hips suggestively rock against Phil’s just once — he couldn’t resist, not if he wasn’t going to have the chance to do so for a while. “We should definitely have something to eat first, though. I haven’t eaten nearly enough today and I reckon I’ll be drunk after half a cocktail if we don’t get food.”

“Fair enough,” Phil agreed as his hands slipped out of Dan’s pants, lightly gripping Dan’s hips and guiding him backwards. Tilting slightly to the side, Phil fished his phone out of his back pocket. “What kind of food do you want, then?”

“Doesn’t matter. Something with a view of the city might be nice,” Dan suggested with a small shrug. Sliding all the way off Phil’s lap, Dan made his way to the mirror, fluffing at his hair. The makeup from earlier still looked nice; the eyeliner wasn’t smudgy and the color on his cheeks still seemed to accentuate his features. Eyes meeting Phil in the mirror, Dan added, “Nowhere so fancy we can’t wear the clothes we’re wearing to the club, though.” 

He knew if they had to come back to the hotel to change there was no way Phil was convincing him to leave again. 

“I know just the place,” Phil said decisively, his gaze turning back to his phone.

*******

Less than an hour later, an uber was dropping Dan and Phil just outside of Times Square with an apology that they couldn’t get them any closer to their destination. During what felt like an infinitely-long car ride for Dan’s curious nerves, Phil had refused to tell Dan where he was taking him, and for a split second, Dan had been worried Phil was going to usher him to one of the hot dog or pizza carts littered around the square before leading him to a bench to people watch.

Not that Dan was strictly opposed to street food — he certainly didn’t want Phil to splurge on another fancy meal so soon after their last date. But also, he’d learned from experience what some vendors’ food will do to stomachs, and if they were planning to head to a club later that night, they should at least _try_ to spare themselves diarrhea and food poisoning.

Phil took a hard right before they made it to the throngs of people though, his hand on Dan’s lower back to guide him in the right direction. The sudden turn led them… into the valet entrance to the Marriott?

Dan turned to look at Phil, but his face was perfectly neutral. “Phil, did you bring us halfway across Manhattan to eat at a _different_ hotel’s restaurant?” Dan asked dubiously, letting Phil lead him through the revolving doors and into the hotel lobby.

“Yeah, we’re going to eat at the touristy hotel bar of a place we aren’t even staying,” Phil responded sarcastically. His hand dropped from Dan’s back, something that disappointed Dan until he followed Phil’s gaze to a gaggle of teenagers across the lobby. “Just trust me, Howell,” Phil teased, flashing Dan a coy smile as he pressed the call button for the lift, the doors immediately opening.

“If you insist,” Dan smirked, stepping into the lift after Phil. “You’re on thin ice though, Lester.” Despite the mock-warning in his voice, Dan quickly closed the gap between them when the doors closed and pressed a quick kiss to Phil’s cheek.

The doors parted again just seconds later, letting them out at the third floor. Confidently, Phil led them down the hallway, only to stop in front of another set of lifts. Dan cocked an eyebrow but wordlessly followed Phil as the doors to the next lift opened.

“Those only go to hotel rooms past this floor,” Phil cryptically explained as he pressed the button for the forty-eighth floor. This ride was longer, giving Phil enough time to lean in and kiss Dan on the lips. “I can’t promise this place will be free of photographers, so get it out of your system.”

Despite his giggles, Dan leaned forward and captured Phil’s lips with his own, this time lingering long enough to capture Phil’s lower lip between his teeth, long enough to nip at the soft and sensitive flesh inside Phil’s mouth. Long enough to reach for Phil’s hips and slip his fingers beneath Phil’s clothes, suggestively thumbing across the bare skin of Phil’s waist.

“Mmff!” Phil let out a throaty noise halfway between a moan and a reprimand, as he pulled back from Dan’s kiss.

“What?” Dan asked innocently, even as he let his fingers drift towards Phil’s arse. “You said to get it out of my system.”

“Well I didn’t think you’d feel me up in a lift,” Phil shot back snarkily.

“Mmmm,” Dan hummed. “Maybe I could resist feeling my boyfriend up in a lift if he didn’t look so damn gorgeous.” Dan eyed the denim jacket Phil was wearing, his gaze lingering on the fitted shirt covered with tiny pale flowers that was buttoned up all the way to his Adam’s apple, drawing Dan’s attention to Phil’s neck. The deep, pinot-noir purple stood out starkly against Phil’s pale skin, bringing out his eyes and making him look unfairly quirky and sexy at the same time.

The bell dinged and the doors parted, cutting off Phil’s reply. Dan snapped his mouth shut, but let himself continue eying Phil as he exited the lift — he could only do so much to tamp down his blatant arousal tonight, when Phil looked like _that_. 

Phil didn’t hesitate to stride up to the host stand and give his name — that was something Dan was still getting used to, a partner being willing to take the lead in moments like this. It was proving to be far hotter than Dan had ever expected it to be.

Dan was still processing everything when the hostess started leading them towards a table. The restaurant seemed to form a circle around the lifts, and all of the exterior walls were replaced with grand windows overlooking the New York skyline.

Dan had only gotten one foot on the raised platform before Phil’s hands were softly gripping his shoulders. It was a good thing, too; Dan was fairly certain he would have fallen if Phil hadn’t steadied him. Beneath their feet, the platform was _moving_.

“What the…?” Dan breathed, baffled by the way the top step was moving but the bottom wasn’t. 

“Look outside,” Phil murmured, his voice just centimeters from Dan’s ear. Following Phil’s suggestion, Dan glanced out the nearest window. Now that Dan was looking closer, the city around them seemed to be shifting slightly, and it took him a moment to realize that it was the _restaurant_ that was rotating ever so slowly, not the skyscrapers outside.

“Holy shit,” Dan mumbled quietly, coming to a halt when the hostess gestured to a small table along one of the massive windows. 

Dan sat, too captivated by the view of this foreign city to pay attention to the muted conversation Phil was having with the woman. Outside, Dan could see building after building, could see the moon rising over the water. It was a spectacular view, and judging by the slow rotation, it was only a portion of what he was going to see tonight.

It wasn’t until Phil’s knee gently bumped against his that Dan tore his gaze away from the window and turned back to face his boyfriend instead. 

“When did you have time to make a reservation?” Dan asked stupidly, his brain still struggling to wrap itself around the amazingly gorgeous restaurant Phil had brought him to.

“While you were primping for tonight,” Phil teased. His hand slid across the table just enough to brush his knuckles across the back of Dan’s hand. 

Dan’s hand, the one that wasn’t just barely touching Phil, flew up to self-consciously pat his curly hair.

“Stop,” Phil gently ordered. “You look good. Really good. Primping time was well used.” 

Dan’s hand fell back to the table, his thumb immediately tapping out a mindless rhythm. He couldn’t believe Phil had taken the twenty minutes of downtime to book them a window-side table. “You’re amazing,” Dan sighed, awe dripping from his voice. “Seriously amazing.”

Phil tilted his head to the side, shrugging his shoulder as he flashed Dan a cheeky grin. “That is what they call me,” he said playfully.

“Oh fuck off,” Dan huffed, unable to stop the wide smile that spread across his face and the way his hand pressed against Phil’s. Teenage Phil really had picked out the perfect username for himself — _amazing_ was by far the best word to describe him.

Dan’s gaze drifted back to the window. The view was slowly twisting so that they could see more and more of the river. The water was twinkling, reflecting both the moon and the bright lights of the city. 

“Wait,” Dan exclaimed suddenly, his head whipping from the window to Phil. “Don’t you get motion sickness?”

Phil shrugged, a soft smile on his face. “Usually. But the restaurant moves so slowly that it won’t bother me as long as I don’t look outside for too long.”

Huffing a small sigh, Dan frowned slightly. “We could have gone to a restaurant where the view _wouldn’t_ make you sick,” Dan pointed out. 

“We could have,” Phil agreed easily. “But I knew you’d like this one.”

“Oh,” Dan mumbled quietly, a smile pulling at his lips. He turned his attention to the menu, if for no other reason than an easy excuse for hiding the blush that was flushing his cheeks. Phil ignored his dinner menu in favor of the black, leather-bound drink book on the table.

“Does your hatred for white wine extend to champagne, as well?” Phil asked idly, not looking up from the menu he was studying. 

“Definitely not,” Dan denied vehemently, smiling stupidly at the thought of Phil ordering them _champagne_. “Champagne is its own branch of alcohol and it’s wonderful.”

“Good,” Phil folded the alcohol menu primly, and looked back up at Dan. “Because you were truly exceptional tonight, and deserve to be spoiled.”

“Phi- _illlll_ ,” Dan whined, bringing his menu up to hide the redness of his face with such force that it accidentally smacked him in the nose. His stomach tightened at the compliment, a shiver ran down his spine.

“Oh I forgot,” Phil said innocuously, his voice far too knowing to actually be innocent. “Does someone have a bit of a praise kink?” Phil continued with fake-casualness, his voice low and quiet. Husky. _Sexy_.

Dan dropped his forehead to the table with a resounding _thunk_ , the menu shifting to cover the back of his head as his hands shielded his face from Phil’s view. “You aren’t supposed to take advantage of that in public.”

“Oops!” Phil laughed, actually _laughed_ , as he kicked a foot out to nudge Dan’s. “Sit up and pick out what you want for an appetizer, babe.”

Slightly mortified, and more than a little flustered, Dan rose up again, his gaze steadfastly fixed on his menu. It was a fruitless effort, though — he could feel Phil’s eyes boring into him, which did nothing to calm his pounding heart and swooping stomach.

He realized they’d been handed a prix-fixe menu, meaning they would each get three courses for the flat rate of… holy shit. _Eighty nine dollars_. 

At this rate, it was getting hard to tell if Phil’s tastes in restaurants was just as fancy as Dan’s, or if he was trying far too hard to impress him. In the months that Dan had gotten to know Phil, he’d learned that Phil was generally somewhat frugal — though never to a fault. In his business and personal life, Phil was always conscious about how he earned and spent his money. That hardly seemed in line with the extravagant dinners he was taking Dan to.

“Phil,” Dan started carefully, planning to test the waters and see if Phil would want to switch to the normal menu, one where they could share an appetizer and skip dessert (and shave a few dollars off the bill). 

“Hush up and choose your appetizer, Howell,” Phil said without looking up from his own menu.

“Fine, I will, but…” Dan trailed off, his eyes darting out the window to avoid looking at Phil for a second before drifting back.

Phil folded his menu in front of him and looked at Dan with an unreadable stare. “But what?”

“But… you know not every date has to be expensive food and fancy restaurants, right? I’d be fine with Dominos and your sofa.” 

“And I’m sure we’ll have our fair share of nights in with too much pizza. But I also like quality food and nice restaurants, and I know you do, too. So order whatever you want and enjoy tonight.”

Dan’s face must have betrayed the small bit of wariness that was still gnawing at his stomach, because Phil continued, “Look, if it makes you feel better, I promise you can pay next time we go somewhere expensive, okay?”

Dan smiled, his heart melting. “I adore you, Phil Lester.”

“And I you, Daniel Howell.”

****

The food was heavenly. Dan opted for lighter, mostly vegan dishes — a salad and a lovely squash roast — because he didn’t want to feel bloated and lethargic if they were going out after dinner. Phil had seafood instead and offered Dan small tastes of it, holding his fork across the table and letting Dan bite off it. 

Dinner was lovely, but the company was even better. By the time their waiter was bringing them dessert menus, they were both well on their way to properly tipsy. 

Sometime during the main course, Phil had ordered a _second_ bottle of Dom Perignon. The bubbles — and ever growing feelings of infatuation — were going straight to Dan’s head, making him feel giddy in a way he couldn’t ever remember feeling before.

Around them, the restaurant was quietly buzzing with the Friday night crowd, the bar growing slightly more crowded as the night went on. Sometime in the past hour, the overhead lamps had dimmed, the lights of the city outside casting a soft glow over their table. They’d made a full circle, rotating around to see the empire state building and central park, and now they were back to the river.

Still though, Dan only had eyes for Phil. 

Under the table, their feet were entwined together, mostly shrouded by the long white table cloth — although the more champagne Dan drank, the less he cared. A few times, when Phil gave him a particularly sweet compliment or an especially sexy look, Dan couldn’t resist brushing his fingertips over Phil’s or letting his toe drag up the inside of Phil’s leg. 

In typical Phil fashion, he turned his full attention away from Dan for the first time all night when the dessert menus came, reading over the options with impressively deep intense concentration. Dan didn’t mind — he knew he couldn’t compete with sweet food, but he also knew dessert would come and go, and Phil would be his again.

“Dan!” Phil exclaimed, pointing to the very first item on the menu. “Look, they’ve made cake out of _cheese_! That shouldn’t get to count as a dessert!”

Dan giggled, his eyes still trained on Phil. “You know, not everyone has the same weird aversion to cheese as you, Philly.”

Phil didn’t respond, too engrossed in the list. “Oooo, look, they have profiteroles and — _ew_!” Head shooting back up, Phil gave Dan a genuinely horrified expression. His voice was just a hair too loud for inside, especially for the posh and intimate restaurant, but it was fine. “Who orders a _cheese plate_ for _dessert_!?”

Fuck, Dan was so soft for this boy, this boy who had such bullheaded opinions over what counted as dessert, but was entirely open-minded about anything bigger. “What can I say, the world is full of zanies and fools.”

“Who don’t believe in sensible rules?” Phil quipped back with his brows raised knowingly, not quite singing, but also not exactly just talking either. 

“Exactly,” Dan agreed with a nod, letting his eyes linger for just a second before finally flitting down to read his own dessert menu. There was an undefined sappy thought beating at the edge of Dan’s mind, something about how Phil felt like the fairytale _impossible thing_ that happened to him, but he shoved it aside — that was too much even for his champagne-addled heart. 

Scanning his menu, Dan’s gaze caught on one of the desserts — not because of the ingredients, but because of the suggestive name. 

“I reckon I’ll order the Cherry Explosion,” Dan said, voice low as he looked up at Phil through his darker-than-usual eyelashes. “Hopefully it’ll be a preview of what’s to come later tonight.” 

Phil held his gaze for a long second, a slow smirk spreading across his face and a playful twinkle in his eye. “You know,” he started slowly, leaning forward. Beneath the table, a warm hand suddenly landed on Dan’s thigh, fingertips dipping between his legs to rub along the inseam of Dan’s trousers. “I’m not normally a big fan of cherries, but if that’s what gets you there, I can get used to it.”

Dan’s jaw dropped open — both at Phil’s words and at the way his hand was slowly creeping higher and higher up Dan’s leg. 

“I don’t — I’m not —” Dan stuttered, trying to defend why he had _cherry_ lube at home, but there wasn’t a restaurant appropriate way to say that he got used to keeping it on hand in hopes that it would entice his ex-boyfriend to eat him out. “ _I_ don’t love the taste that much!” Dan finally managed.

Phil’s hand froze on Dan’s leg, his brows shooting up and a knowing smile growing on his lips. “So the flavor isn’t for your benefit, hmm?”

Shrugging, Dan did his best to keep his face neutral and voice steady — but the heat on his cheeks and his quickened breath told him he wasn’t doing a great job of either. “A lad can hope…” Dan muttered weakly.

The knowing smile on Phil’s lips turned positively _lewd_ , his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip, his eyes darkening with lust. “Hope for what, Daniel?” Phil challenged. 

Dan swallowed thickly, squirming beneath Phil’s intense gaze. He fiddled with the edge of his menu, resisting the simultaneous urges to knock Phil’s hand off his leg so he could think straight and pull Phil’s hand a few centimeters higher to where Dan _really_ wanted it. “You know… something besides just… fingers,” Dan murmured, dropping his eyes to the table.

“I think most people don’t need flavors for a simple blowjob,” Phil pointed out, a smug edge to his voice.

“Ph _illlll_ ,” Dan whined, his face growing impossibly redder. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he grumbled into his flute of champagne, refusing to look Phil in the eye. 

“Look at me, babe,” Phil demanded softly. Head still bowed, Dan shifted his eyes to look up at Phil, whose fingers resumed their teasing caress along Dan’s inner thigh. “And tell me what you meant.”

“I didn’t mean _there_ ,” Dan whined, praying Phil wouldn’t actually make him confess that he liked being _eaten out_ in the middle of a fancy New York restaurant. That’d he’d settle for the blatant implication.

Phil looked like he might push it, but Dan was saved by the timely appearance of their waiter, back to take their dessert order. 

Without taking his eyes off Dan, Phil ordered, his voice returning to its normal volume, a hint of huskiness still laced in. “I’ll have the profiterole, please, and he’ll have the _cherry explosion_.” 

Pointedly, Phil squeezed Dan’s thigh, and Dan felt like he was on the verge of cracking, on the verge of begging Phil to dine and dash, to skip the club, to go back to their hotel — or fuck it, get a room in this one — and fuck him already. The subtle way Phil took charge, the way he challenged Dan in ways none of his past partners ever had, the way he made Dan feel so bloody _taken care of_ — fuck, it was driving Dan insane.

“Bloody hell, Phil. You’re gonna kill me.” 

*****************

“We’re here, babe, you have to get out of the car,” Phil insisted with a giggle. He was standing on the curb, holding the car door open and offering Dan his hand.

“I caaaan’t,” Dan whined, his words slurring together thanks to the full bottle of champagne he’d drank at dinner. He petulantly crossed his arms and stayed firmly planted in his seat.

“This nice man has’ta go pick up his next people, though,” Phil pointed out, flashing an apologetic glance towards the front of the car.

“But _Phil_ , if I get out, then e’ryone’ll _see_ ,” Dan grumbled. Phil’s eyes followed Dan’s gesture towards his lap, a saucy smirk quickly pulling at his lips.

Dan’d been half-hard since they’d ordered dessert, and his trousers were still pulling tightly across his crotch, a telling tent forming in the center. Phil had been entirely unhelpful during the ride to the club, alternating between teasing Dan about how easily excitable he was and letting his hand wander up and down Dan’s thigh, not giving him the chance to calm down. They’d both had too much champagne to be discreet about it, and Dan hoped the driver wasn’t too scarred — he hadn’t said anything to reprimand them, at least. 

“It’s dark out, no one’ll notice,” Phil argued, threading his hand through Dan’s and tugging gently. The awkward reach across the backseat was enough to unsteady Phil, and he braced himself on the doorframe, wobbling just a bit. “C’mon, as soon as we’re inside, you can get us a seat on the sofas and I’ll get us drinks, okay?”

Dan peered around Phil and saw that there wasn’t a line for the club. Maybe they were early — this was New York after all — or maybe this place really was as fancy as Phil had insinuated. Regardless of the reason, that meant Dan would have to interact with minimal people before he could sit down again. Plus, maybe a few minutes away from Phil would help Dan cool down. Lord knew he needed it.

“Here,” Phil let go of Dan’s hand and shrugged out of his denim jacket, offering it to Dan. “You can hold this in front of you in you want.”

“You’ll be cold, though,” Dan said guiltily.

“Not for long if you hurry up and c’mon!” Phil smiled widely, his tongue peeking out more than usual, and shook the jacket at Dan.

Giving in with a disgruntled grumble, Dan gratefully took Phil’s jacket as he climbed out of the uber, only stumbling a _little_ , which he thought was probably a win given that he was definitely both tipsy and turned on. Dan tried to casually sling the jacket over his arm, aiming for a _good boyfriend carrying his partner’s coat_ vibe, and not _horny twenty-something hard because of some light pawing_. 

Phil’s hand landed on Dan’s lower back, guiding Dan towards the entrance. He dropped his hand as they got close, and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. 

He started rifling through, for what Dan wasn’t sure, but the brown-haired bouncer suddenly smiled widely, seeming to recognize Phil, and told him not to worry about it.

 _Shit — the bouncer!_ Dan’s drunken and infatuated mind had forgotten that the only reason Phil knew about this place was because he’d fucked the bouncer. Or maybe the bouncer had fucked him. At this point, Dan honestly didn’t know which was worse to think about.

“Well, hey there Phil,” the bouncer greeted, his gaze blatantly raking up and down Phil’s form. “I didn’t know you were in town.” 

“Hi, Oliver,” Phil greeted politely, smiling but keeping his eyes fixed on the other boy’s face. Dan couldn’t help but size up this lad who had slept with Phil; he had chocolate brown hair, curls, and deep eyes — just like Dan. In many ways, looking at this guy was like looking in a warped mirror. 

Except for in one _very_ important way. 

This guy was built in a way Dan never had been, nor would ever be. His biceps were literally bulging against his sleeves, and Dan could see the sharp outline of defined pectoral muscles under the thin material covering his shirt. Jesus, it was March! Shouldn’t this guy be wearing a jacket or something? Not showing his muscles off to the world?

And rubbing them in Phil’s new boyfriend’s face?

Well aware that he was probably glowering, Dan tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear _Oliver_ telling Phil he looked good tonight.

“I’ll be off at one if you’re free tonight,” the bouncer said as he brushed his hand over Phil’s forearm and offered him a saucy wink. God _damn_ , Dan was well familiar with _that_ move, and he wasn’t particularly enjoying watching some random bloke pull it on _his_ boyfriend. 

The bouncer’s gaze finally drifted away from Phil, landing on Dan for the first time. Understanding seemed to register in his eyes and his hand dropped. “Although, I’m now realizing that might not be an option anymore…” he added, trailing off.

“Oh, uh,” Phil stuttered, sounding strangled and surprised. His hand reached out and wrapped around Dan’s waist. “Yeah. I mean, no! Not’n option, sorry. This is my boyfriend, Dan.” 

“Ah, that’s too bad,” Oliver frowned, disappointed, before offering Dan a cheeky smirk. "You’re lucky. From what I remember your boyfriend sure can ride. He's quite the power bottom, in’it he?"

Dan could feel all the color draining out of his face, could feel how tense his entire body was, could feel his nails digging into the palms of his hands. He was practically shaking — with what, he wasn’t sure. Phil said he’d slept with this guy _a year_ ago. It wasn’t like Dan really had the right to be mad or jealous — they hadn’t even met yet. 

But _still_. 

Riding was _Dan’s_ favorite position — he wasn’t keen on imagining Phil doing that with some other guy. 

“We’re going in now,” Phil said tersely. “You sure you don’t need a cover?” he added with minimal politeness, cutting in before Dan could say anything. Not that Dan had any idea what he’d say in a moment like this. He reckoned it’d probably start with a choice four letter word, though.

“Nah of course not, it’s always free for you gorgeous,” Oliver replied flirtily, and had the nerve to fucking _wink_ at Phil, even after it became clear Phil was taken. “Feel free to call if you’re ever around again!” His gaze shifted to Dan, dragging over his comparatively lanky body. Dan couldn’t help self consciously adjusting the jacket in front of him, squirming under the lewd scrutiny of this built bouncer. “Or are looking for a third,” Oliver added, this time winking at _Dan_ and deliberately licking his lips.

“He won’t be,” Dan snapped, grabbing Phil’s hand tightly and pulling him into the club as soon as they had permission.

Phil followed willingly, not even attempting to pause and apologize to the guy about Dan’s rude behavior. Not that Dan thought his reaction was unjustified — the asshole _had_ ignored Dan, hit on his boyfriend, and asked for a threesome, all within a five minute window.

Inside, Dan paused for a fraction of a second to appraise his surroundings. The club was dim in a seductive, anonymous way. There were guys everywhere, far more than the lineless entrance had suggested. A long bar lined the back wall, and sofas and low tables created narrow aisles, leaving no room for a dance floor — something that was both surprising and disappointing. Dancing would have been an easy way for Dan to release some of his pent up emotions.

Scanning the room for alternate options, Dan’s eyes caught on a deserted hallway. He pulled Phil down it, not stopping until they were passed the glowing _coat check_ window and as far from the crowd as they could be. Dan’s grip was probably still a little too tight on Phil’s hand, but Phil didn’t complain and didn’t question. 

As soon as Dan thought they were alone enough, he spun around on his heel, grabbing Phil by the waist and crowding him up against the wall in one smooth motion. Phil’s jacket fell carelessly from Dan’s grip to the floor as Dan planted his feet on either side of Phil’s, his chest and hips pressed in close. 

The position left Phil pinned to the wall, and given the unspoken dynamic that they were both exploring, Dan half expected Phil to flip their positions, to switch places so that _Phil_ was the one pinning _Dan_ to the wall.

Much to Dan’s satisfaction, however, Phil’s only movement was to loop his arms around Dan and pull him closer, hands splayed on Dan’s lower back. That prick outside had gotten under Dan’s skin, and he needed to remind himself that Phil wasn’t with that arse. Dan needed to remember that after months of pining and lusting and yearning, Phil was finally with _him_ and no one else. 

“Mine,” Dan growled as he surged forward and captured Phil’s lips with his own. Phil chuckled softly into the kiss, his chest rumbling against Dan’s. Dan could feel Phil’s fingers tracing across his back, could feel Phil’s lips quirking up into a smile. The whole thing reeked of _fond_ and _cute_ , but Dan didn’t want _fond_ and _cute_ right now. 

He wanted _passionate_ and _possessive_.

So Dan didn’t pause, didn’t pull back to let Phil laugh. If anything, he kissed harder; his lips moved urgently against Phil’s and his hands slipped up from Phil’s hips, desperately running over any part of Phil’s chest he could reach without having to step back.

Phil’s lips parted, and Dan didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue in, roughly licking the roof of Phil’s mouth. Not quite battling for dominance, but definitely not letting Dan take complete charge of the kiss either, Phil massaged Dan’s tongue with his own, his hands sliding down to firmly grab Dan’s arse. 

The dark hallway, the anonymous club, the foreign city — they all felt like a shelter from the real world, and Dan let himself get lost in kissing and touching and groping. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the red-hot jealousy coursing through his veins, but Dan didn’t even really care if someone noticed them. Hell, he almost hoped that asshat of a bouncer decided to go on a loo break and saw the way Dan had Phil pushed up against the wall, the way Dan had his tongue down Phil’s throat. 

Saw that Phil was _Dan’s_. 

When kissing Phil became too much for Dan’s poor lungs to handle, he pulled back roughly only to immediately latch his lips onto Phil’s neck. Needing to feel Phil in every way he could, Dan rocked his hips forward, grinding their crotches together with a force that made them both groan.

“Mine,” Dan grumbled again, the word vibrating against Phil’s pulse point and pulling a deep moan out of him. He nipped at Phil’s neck, just hard enough for Phil to hiss and tighten his grip on Dan’s arse, his fingers deliciously digging into Dan’s cheeks. “Mine, mine, _mine_ ,” Dan repeated before licking over the red spot on Phil’s neck and sucking harshly.

“Of course,” Phil replied, his voice surprisingly full of conviction given how ragged his breath was growing. “All yours, baby.”

Dan slid his hands down Phil’s side, rucking his shirt up and grabbing at the soft, bare skin of Phil’s hips. “I don’t wanna share you with anyone,” Dan mumbled into Phil’s neck as his lips kissed and bit and sucked their way up to the sensitive spot beneath Phil’s ear. 

“Good,” Phil huffed, this time his voice lower and more affected. One hand left Dan’s arse to tangle in his curls, pulling back forcefully until their gazes met. “Don’t wanna share you, either.”

Dan moaned, probably far too loudly for the coat check hallway of some club, but he couldn’t help it. He’d always preferred monogamy — for a lot of reasons. Something about monogamy with Phil, though. _Fuck_ , it was so damn hot that Dan found himself getting even more riled up. And, sure, maybe it wasn’t an idea that would make many people horny, but it was turning _Dan_ on — he literally didn’t think Phil could say anything sexier.

Hands groping higher up under Phil’s shirt, Dan crashed their lips together again, unable to resist the urge to grind their hips together again. His involuntary moan was drowned out by a loud wolf-whistle.

“Get some, sexy!” A deep, male voice called out, making Dan’s wandering hands come to an abrupt halt on Phil’s ribs and his breath catch in his throat. 

“Fuck,” Dan muttered, tearing away from Phil’s lips and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Dan could feel his cheeks growing hot with embarrassment, could feel Phil’s husky laughter as his head tipped back and _thunked_ against the wall.

Dan wasn’t concerned about the whistling stranger recognizing them, not in the dark shadows of a dim hallway in a fancy club. He was, however, mortified — and unexpectedly a little turned on — at being caught feverishly making out with someone in public, even if it was his boyfriend. 

Phil tugged lightly on Dan’s hair, this time lacking the command from earlier, and guided Dan to look at him.

“Drinks?” Phil proposed, his voice ragged in a way that made Dan radiate with satisfaction.

“Yeah,” Dan panted in agreement. “That didn’t help my problem at all, though,” he added quietly. Rocking his hips against Phil’s, Dan let Phil feel the full hardness of his cock. Through their trousers, Dan could tell that Phil’s cock was swollen too, at least halfway, and the friction was absolutely _heavenly_. Dan had to bite back another moan at the relief that Phil’s hips gave. 

“Grab my coat and go find us a sofa. I’ll get us drinks.” Phil’s thumb dragged back and forth, back and forth across Dan’s hip, rendering him speechless and incapable of countering with any other plan, even if a part of him did still want to at least try to pay for _something_ tonight. 

“Alright,” Dan mumbled, leaning forward to press his lips to Phil’s one more time before pulling back entirely. Bending down, Dan scooped Phil’s jacket up off the floor and slung it over his arm and in front of his crotch in what he hoped was a casual manner.

Dan let Phil lead the way down the hallway, hovering behind him and taking advantage of the extra coverage while he could. When they reached the main room, Phil gave Dan’s free hand a quick squeeze before they parted ways, Phil bee-lining for the back bar and Dan veering right to find some open seats near the edge of the room. 

After a minute of winding, Dan found an empty sofa in a corner of the club. The music was quieter over here, no longer _so_ loud that talking would be impossible. He collapsed onto the cushions and spread Phil’s jacket across his lap. The back of the sofa was low, only coming up to his mid-back — probably to stop people from getting too relaxed and not partaking in the whole _club_ thing. Slouching down so his shoulders were supported, Dan pulled his phone out of his pocket to tell Phil where he was. 

The first thing he noticed was the time — almost exactly half past eleven. His interview with Jimmy Fallon would be airing any minute now. 

The second thing he noticed was about half a dozen text messages from Louise. 

Before he opened her messages, Dan shot Phil a quick text, trying to describe the dark corner he was sat in. Switching over to his conversation with Louise, Dan skimmed over her messages. She’d asked how the recording had gone, what his plans were for the evening, cheekily teased that she hoped Dan wasn’t responding because he was getting laid, and promised to tweet about the show for him — bless her, she really was the best friend and manager he could hope for.

Quickly, Dan typed a quick message back, ignoring most of what she’d said and just updating her on things more generally.

 **Dan [11:28PM]:** taping was good i’m happy with it. i’m sure you’ll see soon. phil and i are out. i’ll ring tomorrow xx

Dan was just hitting send when Phil appeared above him. He shuffled back up into a proper sitting position, tucking his phone back into his pocket. Cocking an eyebrow at Dan’s movement, Phil passed Dan a lowball of something dark and on ice. 

“Just Louise,” Dan said as an answer to Phil’s silent question and took a sip of his drink. It was some kind of whiskey, something much more bitter than whatever the blue concoction Phil was holding probably was. Dan was grateful that Phil seemed to remember his drink preferences, even though they’d only ordered cocktails together a small handful of times. He didn’t think he could stomach drinking something as colorful and sugary as Phil’s. “Thanks,” Dan said with a smile and a tip of his glass in Phil’s direction.

“You’re welcome,” Phil replied, twisting slightly to face Dan as his free arm came to rest on the back of the sofa behind him. “Sorry about that, by the way.” Phil pointedly nodded his head back towards the door. “I didn’t think he’d hit on me, especially not with you there. Hell, I didn’t even know if he’d be working.”

Dan shrugged, twisting slightly so that he was facing more towards Phil than the rest of the room. “It’s’not your fault,” Dan said genuinely. “Although, you promised me he wasn’t cuter than me.” Petulantly, Dan huffed and sent a glare in the direction of the entrance. 

“And?” Phil chuckled, his hand slipping from the sofa, his fingers grazing along Dan’s ribcage. Something about the way Phil was so casually sprawling across the sofa, the sheer manliness of the position, combined with the gentle drag of his fingers on Dan’s side was fucking _attractive._ “Tha’bloke is nowhere near as stunning as you,” Phil continued, his voice low and sincere.

Dan stuck his bottom lip out, pouting up at Phil. “Are y’kidding?” Dan whined. “He looked like me, but with actual muscles an’ not limp noodle arms.”

Phil’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. His eyes dragged over Dan, lingering on his arms, his chest. Dan squirmed under Phil’s intense gaze, and he was certain his cheeks were growing red. He slouched down again; Phil was taller than him now, and Dan had to tip his head up to look at him. From this angle, Dan had a perfect view of the red marks blossoming on Phil’s neck, and he felt pride swell deep in his stomach.

“I’ll admit I have a bit of a thing for dark hair an’ pretty eyes,” Phil conceded, a small smirk on his face and humor lacing his voice. Elbow still resting on the back of the sofa, Phil bent his arm so he could run his hand through Dan’s hair, petting sweetly. Dan couldn’t resist just slightly leaning his head back into the touch, silently encouraging Phil to continue his ministrations. Jesus christ, he loved his hair being played with, both in and out of the bedroom. “But the muscles don’t really do anything for me.” Phil shrugged casually, his eyes dropping from Dan’s again to salaciously rake over his body. 

“In fact,” Phil continued, his voice suddenly lower, huskier. Sexier. “I prefer that you’re a li’le more narrow ‘n me.” The hand in Dan’s hair slid down. Phil’s fingers lightly traced down the side of Dan’s neck, making Dan’s skin feel on fire and his breath catch in his throat. Phil scooched a little more towards Dan, and the close proximity made Dan have to look up even more. “I like being able’ta wrap you up in my arms.”

Arm wrapped around Dan’s shoulder, Phil pulled him in so that Dan’s shoulder was leaning against Phil’s chest, making Dan feel tiny — and not in the bad way he had a minute ago, when he’d been comparing himself to the fit bouncer out front. 

This time, Dan was less subtle about the way he settled into Phil’s embrace. He brought the leg closest to Phil up, and let his knee fall into Phil’s lap. Phil seemed to welcome the new position, his other hand shifting to rest his drink on Dan’s thigh. 

In sync, they both took a sip of their cocktails, and Dan found himself completely distracted from the bitter taste as he stared heatedly into Phil’s eyes. Pointedly, Dan flicked his gaze down to Phil’s glass with a challenging spark in his eye, and tipped his own drink back further. It wasn’t until the liquid was half gone that Dan stopped. With a small smirk, Phil followed Dan’s lead, lifting his glass higher and chugging. 

Dan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way Phil’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and _god_ , he wanted to drag his teeth against it, nip and lick Phil’s neck, add to the marks already there. He wanted to make Phil feel good, wanted to chase the sharpness of the whiskey away with the taste of Phil’s skin.

Overcome with the need to kiss Phil _right now_ , Dan nestled his glass by his hip and tugged on Phil’s wrist. Phil clearly got the hint, his eyes twinkling with mirth and his drink lowering to Dan’s leg.

Pulled together like unstoppable magnets, they both leaned in, their lips meeting with heady passion that was likely too much for a nightclub. Phil tasted fruity and sweet, a perfect contrast to the heavy, bitter flavor of whiskey lingering in Dan’s mouth. Their lips moved against each other, Phil’s tongue almost immediately dragging along Dan’s lower lip, practically demanding entrance. Pliant and desperate for anything Phil would give him, Dan parted his lips and let Phil in. Hot desire rushed through Dan’s veins, his arousal only growing when Phil licked behind his teeth. 

Dan let himself be kissed, pushing _up, up, up_ into Phil, chasing the overwhelming feeling of _Phil_. It was so much, and yet not enough. 

A sharp tug of Dan’s hair forced him to tip his head back further — and jesus _fuck,_ that was hot. The new angle gave Phil access to Dan’s neck, and his lips worked their way down from Dan’s mouth to his pulse point. Beneath Phil’s mouth, Dan could feel his blood rushing, his heart pounding, and he never wanted this moment to end. The soft scrape of Phil’s teeth on his skin drew a loud moan out of Dan and caused his muscles to go slack. 

Wet, cold liquid splashed onto Dan’s thigh, and he tore himself away from Phil’s lips. He looked down, finding his glass tipped precariously to the side. _Oops._

Now that their drinks were emptier and the music was louder, any hope of carrying on a proper conversation had slipped away. That was fine — they’d talked plenty at dinner, and there’d be plenty of time for talking later. 

Sitting upright, Dan drained the last sips of his whiskey, motioning for Phil to do the same. There were only a few gulps left in Phil’s, and he obediently knocked it back. As soon as the drink was empty, Dan snatched the glass out of Phil’s hand and hurriedly put them both on the table. His movements were careless and clumsy, resulting in one of the glasses almost immediately tipping over and ice spilling out.

Dan ignored the mess — he didn’t particularly care about anything other than _Phil_ right now. Dan swooped back in and pressed his lips to Phil’s, his leg shifting so that he was nearly straddling Phil. Warm, firm hands gripped Dan’s hips, lifting and pulling until Dan was fully in Phil’s lap.

“Fuck,” Dan moaned against Phil’s lips, painfully turned on by the way Phil was fucking _manhandling_ him. Dan wanted more, _needed_ to be closer, so he tangled his hands in Phil’s quiff, bracing his elbows against Phil’s shoulders so that he could lean up and kiss Phil harder. Phil’s hands crept under Dan’s tight jumper, and his nails dug into Dan’s waist, making Dan hyper aware of every _single_ one of Phil’s fingers.

Phil’s touch on Dan’s bare sides was electrifying, and a surge of pleasure shot up Dan’s spine. Needing to do something with the heat that was radiating from every inch of his body, Dan found himself grinding his hips down into Phil’s.

“Yeah, baby,” Phil slurred, pulling roughly and guiding Dan to rock his hips forward again. Phil felt so fucking _good_ beneath Dan, solid, warm, and — _jesus_ — growing hard.

Dan’s cock had calmed down some while Phil had fetched their drinks, but the friction of Phil’s hips, the tease of Phil’s hard on, made it swell in interest again.

Tearing his lips away from Phil’s, Dan latched onto Phil’s neck and sucked hard, hard enough to surely leave another mark. Those could be tomorrow’s problem to worry about. Dan worked his way higher, leaving a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses up Phil’s neck. Phil’s fingers were digging into Dan’s hips, and it was fucking _intoxicating_ — more so than the champagne and whiskey and whatever else they were going to drink could ever be. 

“You —” Phil started, his words cut off by a loud gasp as Dan sucked on what must have been a particularly sensitive spot — Dan made a mental note, because he _definitely_ wanted to make Phil do that again. “You look s’good like this,” Phil mumbled.

“ _Phhhh—_ ” Dan moaned, unable to even get Phil’s name out. The compliment felt like a physical _wave_ of pleasure rushing through Dan’s body, making him feel hot all over. Phil was so fucking right about that whole _praise_ thing.

Dan caught the lobe of Phil’s ear in his mouth, letting his teeth graze over it and his tongue dart out to flick it. Pushing up just a hair, Dan slid his hands from Phil’s hair, down his neck, over his shoulders, and down to his chest. Dan couldn't resist bunching Phil’s shirt in his fists, massaging over Phil’s nipples with his thumbs. 

“Good, because when we get back to the hotel room,” Dan whispered into Phil’s ear, “I wanna ride you.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Phil cursed, his hand rucking Dan’s jumper up high enough that his fingers stroked the bottom of Dan’s ribcage. “Yeah, okay.”

Surprised at how easily Phil had agreed, Dan pulled back to look him in the eyes. “Wait, really? You’re cool with that being how we fuck tonight?”

“Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan,” Phil mumbled, his hands tracing rough lines up and down the naked skin of Dan’s waist. “You have no idea how sexy you look above me. Trust me, I definitely want to see you like this, filled up with my cock.”

Dan’s cock twitched, and he had to restrain himself from rocking forward again. “Jesus, Phil,” Dan panted, his hands gripping Phil’s shoulders tightly as he tried to hold onto _some_ grain of composure. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“And why’s that?” Phil teased, his thumbs dragging back and forth across Dan’s ribs, the feeling absolutely _heavenly_. It was somehow hot and tender at the same time, and Dan wanted _more more more_. 

“You know why, you fucking asshole,” Dan grumbled, leaning back down to kiss along Phil’s neck. Dan was beginning to accept that Phil was right, but that didn’t mean he wanted to actually admit it out loud.

“You ‘n your praise kink make this too fucking easy,” Phil murmured, half panting, half chuckling. 

“Don’t take ‘vantage of me,” Dan mumbled jokingly into Phil’s neck, lightly nipping at Phil’s shoulder. 

Properly laughing this time, Phil slid his hands down to Dan’s hips and used his leverage to push him back. The momentum forced Dan all the way back to Phil’s knees — something Dan was thoroughly disgruntled about. But then one of Phil’s hands left Dan’s waist and thumbed over his cheek, a soft and fond look on his face, and Dan couldn’t help but melt. He might have been horny and hot, but he was so _damn_ enamoured that the tender gesture affected him just as much as the grinding and wandering hands had.

“If we keep down this path, I’m gonna have a hard time keeping m’hands to myself,” Phil teased, a playful smirk toying at his lips. His other hand dipped into Dan’s jeans and stroked the long, prominent bone of his hip, as if to prove his point. _Fuck_ , just Phi’s _fingers_ on his hip was enough to drive Dan fucking mad, he didn’t know how he was going to manage to get through the night and back to their hotel without losing control. 

“How ‘bout we dance for a bit?” Phil proposed suddenly. Shocked and unable to process Phil’s suggestion, Dan snapped his head back and stared down at Phil with bleary eyes, blinking slowly. The fuck? 

Dancing? Right, okay. Dan could be up for dancing. But...

Dan glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the club, confused. Just like he remembered, there wasn’t exactly room for dancing anywhere. However, Dan noticed that there _were_ several couples that were making out, feeling each other up, grinding hips desperately together. 

“Uh, where?” Dan questioned skeptically. From his quick glance around, it seemed like dancing would actually draw _more_ attention to them than snogging in a dark corner.

“Dance floor. Downstairs,” Phil explained, his head nodding toward the opposite corner. Dan followed the direction of Phil’s nod, noticing a dimly lit staircase for the first time. Of course — a lot of clubs separated sitting areas from dancing areas, Dan’s tipsy brain had just been too out of it to process. 

“Sounds good,” Dan mumbled in agreement, dipping down to kiss at Phil’s neck one more time before he had to climb out of Phil’s lap. “We should have somethin’ else t’drink first, though. I’m a rubbish dancer,” he chuckled. It wasn’t entirely true, but Phil didn’t have to know that just yet.

The excuse sounded better than _I wanna be drunk and free with you_. Plus, maybe Dan’s decent dancing would be a pleasant surprise later.

Phil’s hand slipped out from Dan’s shirt, and ran up his chest. “How ‘bout you take our jackets to the coat check an’ I’ll order us something else t’drink, baby?” Phil suggested, his tone not really leaving room for Dan to argue as his hands dipped under Dan’s leather jacket, carefully shrugging it off his shoulders. 

Dan’s jacket caught around his biceps, hanging from his arms in the gayest of fashions and he loved it. He wiggled his knees backwards until he was hovering above Phil’s hips and could easily rest his feet on the floor. 

“Alright, let’s go then,” Dan agreed, backing off Phil entirely and holding one hand out to help him off the sofa. Dan was excited to dance, it would give him something a little less slutty to do with all his energy. Grabbing Phil’s jacket, Dan nodded once at Phil before heading back down the deserted hallway from earlier — only now it wasn’t as deserted. Dan passed three couples heatedly kissing before he even got to the coat check booth. But then again, surely snogging in public wasn’t _that_ slutty if this many people were doing it.

Smiling at the employee, Dan dropped Phil’s denim jacket onto the small ledge and shrugged out of his own leather one, not bothering to tuck his phone into his pants pocket before he handed it to the guy across the bar. Tonight was about letting go, and the only person who could really need him had Phil’s number now.

Dan took the coat-check number from the worker, tucking it into his back pocket, and made his way back to the bar. Phil was standing at the far end, twisted around and watching for Dan. 

And _fuck_ , he looked good. Sometime while Dan had been gone, Phil had loosened up a little bit. The top _four_ buttons of his shirt were undone, and his sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, and god help Dan because he was pretty sure he was about to come in his fucking _pants_. Phil looked so _goddamn seductive_ leaning back against the bar like that, his shirt dipping down, his chest peeking out, his forearms taut. 

Phil was gorgeous and sexy and so entirely _manly_ — Dan couldn’t get enough.

It wasn’t until he was standing directly in front of Phil that Dan realized that there were no cocktails — no, instead there were two double shots in front of Phil, plus a small plate of lime wedges and a salt shaker. Tequila, then.

“Get ov’r here, mister,” Phil demanded, a smile on his face as he made grabby hands for Dan. Fucking hell, it should be illegal for someone to be so sexy and so cute at the same time. Dan could only handle so much, and his cock and his heart were competing for blood at this point. “I ordered us shots.”

“Shots, huh?” Dan teased, one hand coming to rest on the bar on the outside of Phil’s hip. “A simple drink wasn’t good enough for you, then?” 

“I figured neither of us could manage a drink an’ dancing a’the same time.” Phil shrugged with a smile, turning back toward the bar and letting his arse grind into Dan’s hips as he pulled their shots closer to them.

 _Fuck_. Phil really knew how to play Dan.

“Come here,” Phil murmured as he twisted back around, his hands landing on Dan’s hips. In one smooth movement, Phil spun them around and switched their positions. Before Dan could fully process the change, his waist was pressing into the bar and Phil’s crotch was digging into his arse. “Take a shot with me.” 

Phil’s voice was deep and gruff, and the scratchiness of it made Dan’s stomach flip over and over in desire. He bloody _adored_ how Phil was taking care of him tonight, somehow perfectly in charge of all of Dan’s needs, intuitively aware of what Dan would find the sexiest and most fun at any given moment. 

Dan reached for a tequila shot with one hand, his other grabbing a lime. Realizing his mistake — it was _salt, tequila, lime_ , after all — Dan dropped his lime in favor of reaching for the salt shaker. Phil beat him to it, though, licking a long stripe up his own hand and shaking two small mounds of salt along the line.

“Here,” Phil murmured into Dan’s ear, bringing his hand level with Dan’s mouth. 

Not hesitating to check their surroundings or respond, Dan surged forward and sucked the salt off Phil’s hand. Phil moved quickly, his head dipping forward and licking his hand at the same time as Dan, their cheeks pressing together. Simultaneously, they both lifted their shots to their mouths, tipping the tequila down their throat. Behind him, Dan could feel Phil gulp, could feel his neck and his chest and his stomach move as he swallowed the alcohol.

Phil got to the lime first, holding it in front of Dan’s lips. Leaning forward, Dan sucked the lime into his mouth, taking care to drag his lips along Phil’s fingers as well. Soft vibrations rumbled against Dan’s back, and it took his drunken brain a second to realize that they were from Phil _moaning_.

Phil dropped the lime to the bar and reached for the other wedge, but Dan knocked his hand out of the way. It was his turn.

Grabbing the second wedge, Dan spun around to face Phil. Dan tried his intoxicated best to arrange his face into a seductive look as he held the wedge up to Phil’s mouth and nudged it against his lips. Maybe it was successful, because Dan glanced up at Phil’s eyes and saw that his pupils were wide and dark. He looked hungry, Dan thought, but it wasn’t for the lime.

Regardless, Phil parted his lips and sucked on it, pulling the tips of Dan’s fingers into the wet heat of his mouth, too.

 _Fucking hell_ , no wonder Phil had moaned when Dan had done that. Now that Dan’s fingers were in Phil’s mouth, now that Phil’s tongue was licking along his skin, Dan couldn’t help but imagine something _else_ in Phil’s mouth, and — _fuck_. 

Pulling back off the wedge with a loud pop, Phil smirked at Dan, linking their hands together under the bar. “Let’s go dance.”

“Yeah,” Dan agreed, breathless, carelessly dropping the lime back to the plate and letting Phil tug him along. Together, they weaved through the aisles of sofas to the steep staircase leading to the mystery basement.

When they reached the stairs, Phil dropped Dan’s hand, opting to grab the handrail instead. Rightfully so, too. The steps were steep and winding, and Dan was sure that even Sober Him would struggle. Dan followed, holding tight to the railing and sticking close to Phil. 

Less than halfway down, the twisting was already fucking with Dan’s drunken head, nearly making him stumble and fall. Luckily, the staircase was narrow and Phil was directly in front of him, so Dan was able to catch himself before he tumbled out of control. 

After what seemed like forever, they rounded the last twist and the stairs opened up to a packed dance floor. The music was a million times louder down here, the lights flashing and moving, subtle fog machines trying to make the whole place scream _sexy_. Everywhere Dan looked, there were men dancing, grinding, kissing. It was the kind of place he hadn’t gotten to indulge in since his late teens, and he was suddenly incredibly eager to embrace the atmosphere.

Stepping around Phil, Dan grabbed Phil by the hand and drug him out to the dance floor. They weaved passed couple after couple until they were packed into the middle of the crowd, disappearing into plain sight thanks to the drunk dancers surrounding them.

Dan spun around to face Phil, alcohol causing the world to blur around the edges. It took a second for Dan’s eyes to focus again, and when they did, he realized that Phil was _blatantly_ checking him out. The way Phil was looking at him, with wide pupils and parted lips, made Dan feel like the sexiest guy in the room — maybe even in all of New York. 

“C’mere,” Phil demanded, nearly shouting to be heard over the music. His message was clear though; there was no mistaking what Phil wanted when he grabbed Dan’s hips and pulled him in close. Dan stumbled forward willingly, and he had a feeling he’d walk straight across the threshold to hell if Phil guided him. On instinct, Dan wrapped his arms around Phil’s neck; they were close — so, _so_ close. Their chests were just centimeters apart, their hands spread wide like they were trying to touch as much of each other as they could. Together, they started to move in time to the thumping bass of the music.

Dan giggled, drunk and horny and maybe just a little bit slap-happy. 

_What?_ Phil mouthed with furrowed brows and an amused smile. 

Dan smiled and stepped closer so he could try to explain; their chests were touching now and Dan could _feel_ Phil dancing. Dan leaned in so that he could yell directly into Phil’s ear. “I feel like I’m back at my year eight dance.” Dan tugged on the hair at the nape of Phil’s neck and pointedly wiggled his hips, hoping Phil would telepathically understand Dan’s logic.

Phil laughed, loud and shameless, with his tongue poking out and his eyes nearly closed. He looked happy and gorgeous and Dan’s heart was beating in a way that he was pretty sure had nothing to do with the minute amount of physical exercise. 

Smile still plastered on his face, Phil pulled Dan impossibly closer, causing their hips to crash together, and _god_ Dan loved how their hips felt when they were pressed together. He could have sworn he could feel the outline of Phil’s cock, and it only made him more excited for later. 

“Only if you got kicked out,” Phil teased, his hands dropping down to Dan’s arse and squeezing, as if to prove his point. And yeah, that move was definitely forbidden back in year eight. Maybe it was a good thing too, because thirteen-year-old Dan might’ve fucking cum in his pants if someone did that to him then. Fucking hell, twenty-three-year-old Dan was on the verge of doing so, maybe the club should be a little more regulated. 

Maybe a touch too late, Dan vehemently shook his head — grinding at dances wasn’t even _remotely_ his life at thirteen. At thirteen, Dan was sexually confused and his only quality friendship was Louise. (Although, four years later, Dan was much less confused and was actively looking for just about anyone who would pop his cherry.) 

Now, though, Dan was entirely comfortable with his sexual preferences, even if he did waiver between labels from time to time. At the very least, Dan could say with complete confidence that he was fucking _attracted_ to the _man_ in front of him, and he was fucking _hot_ for the fact that they were surrounded by other _gay_ couples.

And now that Phil’s hands were on his arse, pulling him closer so that their hips, their _cocks_ , rubbed together, Dan couldn’t think about anything else. 

So Dan let go. He let the champagne and the whiskey and the tequila take over, let his inhibitions fade away. The music was so loud that Dan could feel it in his _soul_ , the remixed-nineties music just familiar enough to make Dan feel like he knew what he was doing, the added beats just fast enough to make him feel _sexy_. Hands still tangled around Phil’s neck, Dan pushed his hips forward and rocked them against Phi’s.

His hips moved on their own accord, swaying and grinding and moving in time with the music. Phil moved with him, their crotches rubbing together over and over as remixed versions of TLC, Christina Aguilera, and Destiny’s Child pulsed around them. It was hot, _god_ it was hot. The dance floor was so packed, so anonymous, and Dan couldn’t hold back from closing the fucking _microscopic_ amount of distance between them, kissing Phil over and over again as the night grew later and later.

At some point, Phil twisted Dan around. It came almost out of nowhere — one minute they were grinding together, and the next, Phil was manhandling Dan, shifting their positions so that Phil’s semi-hard cock was rubbing against Dan’s arse, and _fucking hell_ that was hot. Some bassed-up version of _Baby Got Back_ was playing, so loud that the song was almost all-consuming. The sober recesses of Dan’s mind tried to remind him of that scene from Friends, the one where Ross and Rachel sang this to their infant and offended each other, but the drunk and horny parts of Dan were far too focused on the way Phil was grinding into his arse, the way Phil’s hands were sliding further and further down his hips, to properly process anything about the music. Phil rubbed his hands over and over the front of Dan’s hips, pulling him closer and grazing his cock with every pass. Moaning, Dan let his head fall back onto Phil’s shoulder, and Phil’s neck was _right there_ , so of course Dan mouthed along it. The music was too loud to hear much of anything over it, but Dan could feel Phil’s throat vibrate with a moan, could feel Phil’s fingers dig into his hips the slightest bit harder. They were touching _everywhere_ , flushed together from head to toe and Phil felt like Dan’s whole _world_ tonight.

Dan rocked his hips back, soaking up the heady sensation of Phil’s cock rubbing against him, feeling more and more intoxicated off lust than alcohol by the second. Trying not to overthink it, Dan reached behind himself and wrapped his arm around Phil’s neck, his fingers tangling in the short hair at the back of Phil’s head. 

The breath was nearly knocked out of Dan when Phil pushed up Dan’s short shirtsleeve with his mouth, and kissed along his inner bicep as he drug his lips up Dan’s arm. Fucking _hell_ , Dan was definitely about to combust and cum on the spot if Phil kept doing that. Phil’s lips latched onto Dan’s arm, sucking and surely leaving a mark and _fuck_ Dan had never been so glad to have worn a short sleeve shirt as he was right now.

Once again, the music shifted, and the iconic first notes of _Britney_ rung out. Within seconds, Dan recognized the song, and given how Phil’s fingers tightened on his hips, he reckoned Phil did, too. And _god_ , he wanted to look at Phil while they danced to this.

Dan tried to twist around, and Phil’s grip loosened just enough to let him move, his fingers dragging deliciously over Dan’s skin as he turned. They readjusted quickly, Dan’s arms wrapping around Phil’s neck and Phil’s hands lowering to grope Dan’s arse.

“Baby, can’t you see,” Dan murmured huskily into Phil’s ear, his tongue darting out to lick Phil’s earlobe. Slowly, sensually, Dan slipped his arms from Phil’s neck and dragged his hands across Phil’s chest. He moved slowly, his fingernails raking across Phil’s shirt, pausing to rub at Phil’s nipples.

“ _Jesus_ , babe,” Phil mumbled, the words barely more than a strangled groan. The fingers on Dan’s arse tightened, forcefully pulling until Dan’s hips were grinding against Phil’s. Their cocks rubbed together, and Dan rocked his hips again, desperate to feel and feel and _feel_. 

Phil was half hard, and so was Dan, and the friction was amazing. Pleasure shot through Dan, his cock twitching and a quiet moan tumbling from his lips. Dan couldn’t resist tangling his fingers in Phil’s hair, dragging him just the slightest bit closer, not that there was really much distance left between them.

The music continued to pound around them, and Dan continued to rock his hips forward in time with the beat. He wanted _so much_ , and the grinding was just a small tease. Through the fabric, Dan could feel Phil growing harder and harder, making Dan want _more_. Heat and desire and lust were building in the pit of Dan’s stomach, and he just fucking _wanted_. 

He wanted to taste Phil’s cock in his mouth. He wanted to feel Phil’s bare cock throbbing against his own. He wanted to be stretched around Phil, full and satisfied.

This song — _this_ song out of all the late-nineties and early-two-thousands songs — fucking _got_ to Dan. And he didn’t think it was fully his fault, it wasn’t like he had a thing for it three months ago. But then, one of the earliest videos he’d watched on AmazingPhil was Phil dancing half naked to this song — there was really no coming back from that.

Dan kissed up Phil’s neck, coming to a stop just a short centimeter from Phil’s ear. “Ya know,” he started huskily. He could feel Phil’s fingers dig into his arse, could see how Phil’s breath hitched. Mischievously, Dan continued, “I jacked off to this video.” 

The effect was immediate — Phil froze and inhaled so sharply that Dan could actually hear the gasp over the music. For a second, the world was frozen; it was just Dan staring at Phil, a smug smirk on his face, and Phil staring back, shocked and wide-eyed.

And then Phil’s lips _crashed_ onto Dan’s, moving insistently, hotly, and the world was moving again. 

The kiss was merciless, Phil’s tongue immediately licking at Dan’s lips and demanding entrance — not that Dan was complaining. He opened his mouth and let Phil in, let Phil _ravage_ him. Phil’s hands disappeared from Dan’s arse, only to land on his cheeks, firmly holding his head in place so Phil could kiss him harder.

There was no air in Dan’s lungs, and he didn’t give a single fuck. The shortness of breath only made everything hotter, and _jesus_ that was a kink Dan didn’t think he had, but then again, he might find _any_ kink hot if it was with Phil. Phil was so in control, so hungry, so _domineering_ , and Dan couldn’t get enough of it.

Phil pulled back without warning, leaving Dan a panting _mess_. They were so, _so_ close, and Phil’s eyes were nothing but black pupils. He looked ready to fucking _devour_ Dan, and Dan _really_ hadn’t expected this strong of a response but he was living for it. It was making him feel wanted and sexy.

“We’re going,” Phil snapped, his hands roughly unwinding Dan’s arms from his neck. “Right. Fucking. Now.” 

Phil’s words were sharp, making it clear that this _wasn’t_ a request. He sounded like he was on the verge of losing control, looked like he might shove Dan against the nearest wall, and take him right then and there.

Their fingers tangled together and Phil spun around, dragging Dan behind him as he pushed his way through the dancing crowd. It was a good thing Phil was holding Dan so tightly, because he was moving so fast that Dan might have gotten lost if their hands got separated. 

Phil didn’t stop moving until they’d made it up the stairs, all the way past the sofas and down the hallway. They came to an abrupt halt in front of the coat check window and — _shit_ , right. Their jackets. 

Dan dug through his pockets, searching for the tiny ticket that he’d shoved _somewhere_. Phil’s heavy stare wasn’t helping, only making him feel more flustered and rushed and desperate to get the fuck out of there already.

“Dan,” Phil said, a hint of reprimand and urgency in his voice that spurred Dan to move faster. His fingers finally closed around the small slip, and he wrangled it out, holding it up triumphantly. Phil ripped the ticket out of Dan’s hand, his only response a single approving nod. Phil slammed it down on the counter, his eyes never once drifting from Dan’s. 

The coat check worker chuckled — it was probably _perfectly_ clear what was going on. But even that wasn’t enough to drag Phil’s eyes away from Dan. Dan swallowed thickly, his mouth dry, as he held Phil’s gaze. He couldn’t fucking _think_ with Phil looking at him like that. Struck dumb, Dan licked his lips as he waited to see what would happen next.

Phil’s grip was still tight, and he tugged on Dan’s hand. Drunk and caught off guard, Dan stumbled forward, colliding with Phil. 

“You’re so sexy,” Phil whispered, just barely loud enough to be heard. “I can’t wait t’fuck you.”

Dan whimpered, fucking _whimpered_. Phil was so much filthier than his new videos made him seem, he was dirty in all the right ways. Although, looking back, Dan could see some of this Phil in the much younger Phil that had filmed the Toxic video.

The rustling of their jackets hitting the counter jolted Dan and Phil out of their bubble. Both of their heads snapped to face the window, and Dan could tell his cheeks were probably flushed red. He’d forgotten that there was someone else nearby, that someone else was probably paying proper attention to them.

Phil reached out to pull the bundle of clothes closer, clearly avoiding looking at the coat check person. “Put this on s’we can leave,” Phil ordered, shoving Dan’s leather jacket into his chest. 

Dan didn’t need telling twice; he sprung into action and clumsily shrugged into his jacket, his hands getting caught several times. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was thanks to the alcohol or lust, but he didn’t care.

Phil slapped a few bills on the counter and grabbed his own coat. 

“Thanks boys,” the clerk said cheerfully. “Have a good night! Don’t forget protection!”

 _Oh god._ Dan felt his cheeks grow hot. He didn’t mind people noticing him and Phil were itching to fuck, but _christ_ , he really didn’t expect a random stranger to actually _say it_. 

Phil grumbled something in response, something Dan didn’t quite hear or process, and guided Dan back down the hallway, one hand firmly pressed against Dan’s lower back.

Hot breath washed over Dan’s ear, and he belatedly realized that Phil was _close_. “I really don’t wanna use a condom,” Phil muttered into his ear. Dan’s breath hitched, and Phil’s fingers curled around to his sides, not giving him a chance to recover before continuing. “Wanna feel you ‘n fill you up.”

“Fuck,” Dan huffed, his mind not able to think about anything other than Phil’s bare cock pressed into him, pumping cum deep into his arse. “Yeah, please. ‘M clean.” 

“Good,” Phil said with a note of finality. He opened the club door and ushered Dan through it. Dan stopped just outside the entrance, hovering and waiting for direction from Phil. Phil stood close, head bowed as he tapped on his phone. Dan looked around them, realizing that there was a line now, and the asshole bouncer from earlier was gone. Must have been after one, then.

“Ugh,” Phil groaned. “There’s a twen’y minute wait for’n uber.” 

God that was so much longer than Dan wanted to wait. Brows furrowed, Dan glanced up at the street sign.

“We’re only like seven blocks from the hotel, w’can walk faster,” Dan pointed out.

“How’dya know that?” Phil asked, head snapping up, looking surprised.

Dan pointed to the numbered street sign. “Grid system. Let’s go,” Dan suggested, nodding his head in the right direction.

“Perfect,” Phil mumbled. He grabbed Dan’s hand and started walking. His pace wasn’t _quite_ as fast as earlier, something Dan was rather grateful for. He didn’t think he could walk that quickly for seven blocks and not be too out of breath for sex.

The first block, Phil was still walking faster than normal, though. It wasn’t until they reached the first crosswalk and were forced to stop that they both _breathed_. The break calmed some of the out-of-control desire coursing through Dan’s veins, dulling it down to a pulsing _lust_. Dan turned to look at Phil, his eyes surely full of fond desire, a smile definitely pulling at his lips.

Phil bounced on his toes for a second, his movements slowing down when the light didn’t immediately change. Phil glanced at Dan, his heady expression melting slightly into something a bit softer, a bit more gentle. The passion and want were still there, but now there was something else, something sweeter, there too.

Now that they were out of the club, free from the throbbing bass of the music and away from the grinding couples, Dan’s mind felt a little clearer. It was chilly out, not quite cold but definitely cool enough that Dan felt justified leaning into Phil a bit, resting his head on Phil’s shoulder and sticking close. Phil smiled down at him fondly as Dan looked up at him through his lashes. The world around seemed to fade away, and there were butterflies fluttering in Dan’s stomach and _god_ how was Phil so sexy and dominate and sweet all in the span of five minutes, this had to be illegal.

Dan’s eyes snapped away when the crosswalk chimed, and suddenly they were walking again. They weren’t the only ones out — if anything, there seemed to be _more_ people on the streets now. As they made their way back to their hotel, they passed club after club, bar after bar, all with lines of drunk twenty-somethings.

Some sober, less reckless part of Dan warned him that all the people meant a higher chance of getting recognized, but he just _didn’t care_. He wasn’t about to stop and talk to a fan right now. It was Friday night, and the whole city seemed to be intoxicated, and Dan would just have to hope that everyone else was too drunk to notice him.

They came to stop at another intersection, just barely missing the chance to cross. Dan glanced around, taking in the city surrounding them. There was a group of girls nearby, smoking and drinking something out of brown paper bags. There were a few people outside a pizza place, drunkenly eating slices of pizza off white paper plates as they sat on the curb. There was a couple across the way, fighting loudly about something Dan couldn’t make out.

It was late and crowded and everyone was too focused on themselves to take note of anyone else. It was the kind of crowd that made everyone anonymous. The neon city lights were blurry, and made it hard to see the details of anything — although maybe that part was just Dan.

Regardless, he didn't care.

Phil was so close, so warm by Dan’s side and Dan just wanted _more._

“Kiss me,” Dan asked, nearly begged, as he looked back at Phil. His voice was high and nearly breathless, so affected that he probably would have been embarrassed by how fucking _needy_ he sounded if the situation had been different. But as it was, this was Phil, _Phil_ who seemed to instinctively understand every single desire Dan had. 

Phil smiled at Dan softly, turning so they were face to face. Without hesitation, Phil closed the distance between them, doing as Dan asked. Phil kissed him slowly but thoroughly, his lips moving languidly, his tongue slipping between Dan’s teeth and licking along the roof of his mouth. 

“ _Mmm_ ,” Dan hummed into Phil’s mouth as he wrapped his arms around Phil’s neck, his elbows resting on Phil’s shoulders, wrists crossed behind his head.

Phil’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, but he kept kissing, his arms wrapping around Dan’s waist and pulling him closer. 

It was hot — kissing Phil would _always_ be hot — but it was also sweet and maybe even a little romantic. Dan had never kissed someone on the street until Isabella, and in hindsight, everything about _those_ kisses had been for the wrong reasons. This kiss, right now with Phil, wasn’t for pizza eaters or smokers or fighters. This kiss had nothing to do with the audience, and _everything_ to do with the fact that Dan was so fucking head over heels for Phil that Dan couldn’t couldn’t resist kissing him for the two minutes it took for the crosswalk light to change. 

At some point, Louise had told him that all of _this_ was so much better when you loved someone, and Dan was realizing how right she was because just kissing had _never_ been this good.

_Love._

The word crashed over Dan, suddenly the only thing he could think as he drunkenly kissed his boyfriend in the middle of New York City at two in the morning.

Dan _loved_ Phil.

Dan was one hundred percent, completely and totally in _love_ with the boy kissing him.

Gasping, Dan pulled back from the kiss, his eyes flying open.

“What?” Phil asked breathlessly, a note of urgency in his voice. 

“I — nothing.” Dan swallowed thickly, there was no way he could say what he was thinking. Not now, not already. His gaze drifted over Phil’s shoulder and caught on the signal, which was now showing a white walking man. “We can cross now.”

Dan hoped his voice was steady, hoped it wasn’t obvious that his mind was _somewhere_ , but he was pretty sure he wasn’t very subtle. If Phil noticed, though, he didn’t say anything. He just followed Dan into the street, one arm still wrapped around his waist, holding Dan close as they continued walking. Dan leaned into Phil’s side, stumbling slightly and focusing entirely too much on the way Phil’s fingers had dipped under his shirt and were thumbing over his side, and not nearly enough of the sidewalk.

Yeah, Dan was definitely in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ like and reblog on tumblr](http://imnotinclinedtomaturity.tumblr.com/post/183182540515/love-yourself-chapter-32)

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr at [imnotinclinedtomaturity](http://www.imnotinclinedtomaturity.tumblr.com)


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